A Twist Of Fate
by A Damned Scientist
Summary: AU, starting from A Human Reaction. John never looks at the news stand. Later chapters may contain more mature content than the first chapter.
1. A Twist Of Fate

**A Twist of Fate (PG)**

**Written as a Secret Santa for Vinegardog on Terra Firma**

Setting, Spoliers: AU, from AHR.

Warnings: J/A Ship Alert. Some low level violence, language, sexual situations.

OK, it's a bit of a cheat, but the outline of this fic has been languishing in my WIP folder for about a year, labelled 'Nice Idea, but actual words fail me.' My Secret Santa assignment seemed to fit it perfectly, so that was the kick up the eema I needed to get the opening chunk written and polished. Once you've read it, hopefully, you'll see that it is potentially the first part of a longer fic. If the muses start being kinder to me, you might get subsequent chapters. If not, Happy Christmas, anyway.

Thanks: To Arevhat and pdsldl for beta duties.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made here.

Words: 7733

**A Twist Of Fate (PG)**

Always trailing a few steps behind Crichton, Aeryn made her way across the sunny plaza as best she could, considering the circumstances. The bizarre Erp-woman dress made her feel exposed and vulnerable. It somehow contrived to restrict her movements whilst simultaneously exposing an inordinate amount of flesh to the eyes of every passer by. Yet the dress was as nothing compared to the impractical human footwear. The so-called shoes hurt her feet and left her feeling hobbled. With the amount of skin she was displaying, the ungainly walk she was forced to adopt in the shoes and, most importantly, the fact that she was an alien fugitive in fear of being apprehended at any moment by these barbarians, she was not feeling very comfortable or in control of her life. Indeed, Aeryn was just about sufficiently distracted to forget about certain other things which, in different circumstances, would have greatly concerned her.

One of the things preying on her mind was the fact that she had finally got over her reservations and recreated with Crichton the previous night. He had been a good frell, and nowhere near as alien as she had half-feared for the last few monens. Almost ever since the inclination to frell him had first crossed her mind, when she had awoken that first time on Moya to find him naked on the floor of her cell, she had been held back by dread at the prospect of what it might be like to recreate with an alien. Even an alien who looked so Sebacean. But last night, as when they had found themselves caught in the Flax, it had hardly seemed to matter any more. Now, as far as Crichton was concerned, that taboo was, if not forgotten, no longer the pressing issue it had once been for her. So wasn't that was one thing to be grateful for, she snorted to herself?. It had been a good frell, more than good. Yes, that frell alone almost made up for everything else which had happened to her on this hell-hole. Almost.

However, even the best frell imaginable couldn't make up for the fact that, all things considered, Aeryn was not having the best of weekens.

In the space of a few arns she had gone from being a free woman to a prisoner and then had swiftly progressed to being a fugitive. Or was that back to being a fugitive? No matter: it only mattered that things had got worse. But that was just a small part of her misfortune. She had seen one shipmate murdered. She refused to consider calling Rygel a friend, especially now that he was dead. She felt the need to distance herself even further from him, even though the thought of what had happened to him had stirred feelings in her she never knew she felt, least of all in regard to the treacherous, dishonourable slug. Then D'Argo had been dragged away, presumably to suffer a similar fate. The Luxan was an honourable fellow warrior, and she could no longer entirely bury the most un-Peacekeeper like admission that she felt some degree of friendship towards him. Then had come the escape and, of course, the subsequent night with Jo….. Crichton. With Crichton, she insisted to herself. Using his second name made it easier to maintain a healthy emotional distance.

As they made their way across the plaza she walked a couple of paces behind the human. She found her eyes drawn to the black bag slung across his broad, muscular shoulders, shoulders that, just arns before, she had explored in intimate detail. Everything she had been struggling with for the last half cycle had come to a head last night, just as it almost had that previous time in the Flax when they had both thought that they would surely soon be dead. Both times it had taken the prospect of imminent death to allow her to act on her feelings towards John. Towards Crichton, she caught herself once more. As she watched him walk, she was suddenly grateful that he could not see her own features and the warring thoughts and feelings written all over them.

They had nearly crossed the plaza now and would soon be passing a merchant stall of some sort which lay to their left. A pretty blonde-haired woman, evidently out for some exercise, was coming towards them, her loomas bobbing up and down slightly but probably hypnotically for a male. The female was aiming to pass between them and the merchant. Seeing John's head turn towards the blonde, Aeryn was suddenly seized by an unfamiliar feeling, almost like that which she had felt when she had discovered John and Gilina embracing on the Zelbinion. She felt an irrational anger that Crichton should be sexually interested in any female other than herself. She hurried to catch him up, as best she could in these frelling shoes and dress, instinctively coming up on his right to keep her own dominant weapons hand free and, she hoped, to draw his eyes away from the blonde woman. She knew that keeping her right arm free was a useless gesture on her part, as John had their only gun, there being no where to conceal it about her own flimsily-clothed person, but it was a habit she could not shake. She caught his right arm with her own left and leant in close to talk to him, desperately trying to ensure that no one could overhear her speaking.

"We're too exposed, John, we need to get away from here, as far and as quickly as we can," she hissed, desperate to ensure his attention and to minimize the chance someone might overhear her non-human tongue. John leant in close and turned his head slightly to listen to her as they passed the merchant stall and turned right, away from the waterfront and back towards the road. Aeryn allowed herself an inner smile at her small victory as the blonde woman passed onwards, ignored now by John.

"I know Aeryn, I know," John replied, evidently trying to placate her. His voice was urgent, but she could tell that he was desperately trying to remain calm. She said no more, but for some reason remained walking in step with him, her arm entwined with his. Although she told herself she was only doing so for physical support and to slow him down to her walking speed, she found the physical intimacy oddly satisfying and would have been loath to break away even if he had been walking at her pace.

A short time later they came to the edge of the plaza, standing on a raised edge just denches from where a multitude of wheel transports thundered, roared and clattered past. Beyond she could see more buildings framing either an ocean or an estuary. Aeryn stifled a gasp at the awesome sight of so much azure water, blending as it did with an equally blue sky. For a moment it reminded her of John's eyes, but then she buried the thought as frivolous and unbecoming of a Peacekeeper Officer, even a disgraced one such as herself.

"The railroad station is a few blocks over," John commented, taking the opportunity of her distraction to nuzzle her ear slightly. Aeryn struggled with the urge to pull away, but elected not to do so at risk of causing a scene and drawing attention to them. "We'll catch a train to the next city; get the hell out of Dodge." Then, responding to who-knew-what signal that it was safe, John pulled her closer to him and stepped out into a gap which had suddenly appeared in the traffic. When Aeryn's eyes convinced her pounding heart that they were in a temporary, traffic-free oasis and that they were not about to be killed by some giant wheeled vehicle she twisted the surface flesh on John's arm slightly but no doubt painfully. His attention gained, she hissed at him.

"Frelling warn me next time before pulling a stunt like that! I thought we were going to be killed just now when you dragged me into the traffic!"

John looked back at her, his genuine surprise evidently quickly giving way to understanding of how she must have felt, not knowing anything about traffic lights and pedestrian crossings. "Umm, uhh, sorry. Didn't think," he grunted in genuine apology and seemed to recoil from her slightly, as though scared by her suddenly fierce demeanour. Aeryn scowled back at him for another microt, although now because she was angry with herself for over-reacting and destroying the degree of closeness she had felt to Crichton before they had begun to cross the road. As they reached the other side and stepped up onto what even she now knew to be the relative safety of the sidewalk she pulled him closer again, trying to re-establish what they had lost.

"Its fine, John," she replied, snaking the fingers of her hand to capture and twine with Crichton's. "Just warn me next time."

John looked at her for a long few microts, his frown and slightly agape mouth broadcasting his confusion at her flip-flopping behaviour. Then he seemed to snap out of it and come to an accommodation in his mind. He squeezed her had reassuringly. "Of course, babe. It's just so easy to forget sometimes… things I take for granted. You know?"

Although he was not exactly making sense with his poorly constructed sentences, she found that she did indeed know. She thought of all of those monens after John had first arrived in the Uncharted Territories when he had seemingly not known the most basic things. She had sometimes been so frustrated with him, so unable even to take the time to consider that he might know things that were second nature to everyone else. Now, as she had sometimes heard John say, the boot was on the other foot.

'~'

The huge, bustling railroad station was crowded with humanity of all ages, shapes, colours and smells, giving Aeryn her first chance to truly observe how diverse humans could be. The humans she had met whilst in captivity had seemed little different from Peacekeepers, in that they shared a certain physical and sartorial homogeneity. Travelling to the safe house the previous day and then to the station today had begun to show her that humans could be a little more diverse than that, but now, crushed together with hundreds of them, old and young, rich and poor, the sheer magnitude of their diversity left her almost shocked. One of the most surprising things of all was their colourings. Sebaceans all had similar skin colour and she had not previously realised that the same did not apply to humans.

But she barely had time to process all of these revelations. They had a mission to perform: Get on a mass transportation device and escape from the city. They had barely entered the station, making their way down a narrow corridor between a fast food outlet and what John had called a newsagent when John pulled Aeryn over towards the newsagent-side of the corridor.

"You should wait here while I buy some tickets," John instructed her, "Look at some magazines or something." He was just about to advise her to keep a low profile by sticking to the ones which looked as though they concerned womens' clothes and fashion, rather than those related to guns, fighting and military aircraft when Aeryn interrupted him. What she had noticed and that he had not was that, slightly further into the station, stood several pairs of uniformed humans. They were clearly some sort of paramilitary force and they seemed to be checking everyone who passed, as though looking for someone. Despite her lack of familiarity with Erp and its ways, she could hazard a pretty good guess as to who it was they might be looking for. She gently circled John, taking his hands and spinning them both through 180 degrees, so that he could see the guards without making it obvious that they were looking.

"We have to go John. Can you see the guards?" John toyed with her hair, moving his face close to hers, to cover that he was really looking to see the guards and to enable him to whisper to her. It was a wise subterfuge, but Aeryn found that she was enjoying it for entirely different reasons. She pushed the thought away, determined to focus on the matter at hand rather than on the feel of Crichtons' hands, the proximity of his mouth and body.

"Hell!" he exclaimed in a soft whisper. "They must be guarding all the main stations routes out of town. We'll have to try something else."

"Can't we try to slip by?" She asked, desperate not to give up on their escape plan.

"You, the stunning alien babe? Slip by a bunch of guys unnoticed?" John chuckled into her ear. "What planet are you from, missy?"

Aeryn was about to protest that there must be some way of doing so, but John had already snaked his arm through hers and was leading her back out the way they had come in.

'~'

The scruffy truckstop was little more than a bunch of spaces to park vehicles and a bar: Perfect for their needs, John had explained. It was far less likely to have routine surveillance cameras or to warrant agents on the look-out for him and Aeryn than many other places that they might procure transportation. Casting his eyes around the bar, it didn't take John long to settle on a suitable couple to target to get a ride out of town.

"Heard y'all speaking: It's good to hear someone from back home. These seats taken?" John asked, pouring on the accent and the smile as he tried to charm the hippy-looking middle aged couple, seated at their booth eating some sort of elaborate, to Aeryn's eyes, meal. Aeryn, already instructed of the part expected of her in their little play, stood beside John, beaming one of her most brilliant smiles. She was not exactly pleased to have to pretend to be John's mute, long-term recreation partner, but she conceded the sense of his argument, if only because it was his world and she had to trust him to know what might work.

"Sure thing, son," replied the seated man in a California drawl. John motioned Aeryn into the booth and, dropping their stolen holdall beside the bench, followed her in.

"Name's John Rigel," John continued, holding out a hand.

"Don," the man indicated.

"Suze, Suze Clarke," the old man's companion indicated, eyeing up the younger couple. Her gaze settled on Aeryn, expecting a reply from the female newcomer. Aeryn opened her mouth, but then, at the last microt, remembered the plan they had agreed to earlier.

"My girlfriend's called Erin," John supplied with what even Aeryn could recognize as a sad smile. "She can't really speak." John's hand settled on hers, a prelude to his thumb stroking her knuckles. Aeryn forced out a reluctant, unhappy smile of her own. Fortunately, albeit for different reasons to those colouring her thoughts, it was exactly what was expected of her. "Operation to remove a polyp on her vocal chords last year went kinda wrong."

The older couple eyed cooed in sympathy before John added. "Can't be helped, but we find ways to communicate," he finished, taking a firmer hold of her left hand and pulling it to his lips for a pecking kiss.

Aeryn's jaw loosened and her lips opened. On the one hand, she was annoyed with John for taking such liberties, including involving her in such a public display of affection. It was so alien to her own upbringing, so outside her comfort zone. But those feelings were at war with the frisson of sexual excitement, mixed with some other warm sensation which she could not quite identify, which swept over her as he had taken her hand and then kissed the fingers. Her open lips transformed into another broad smile, whilst her fingers gave his the briefest squeeze before she stole her hand back and settled it, palm down and so hopefully out of bounds, on the worn table in front of her.

"Aw, that's so sad, ain't it Don?" the older woman cooed making some sort of large, eye-fluttering expression at Aeryn which Aeryn found completely incomprehensible. As she spoke Suze reached out a sympathetic hand to lay on Aeryn's. It took all of Aeryn's self- control not to snatch her hand away or remonstrate with the woman. No one touched her without her permission, without her initiating it, no one… except, well, except, now, for John, it seemed. Suze squeezed Aeryn's hand and gave a sympathetic smile, whilst Aeryn tensed against the urge to break away, forcing herself to return a small smile of her own.

"You're from Tennessee, ain't you?" Don asked between sips of coffee. John nodded with a wide, toothy grin. "So what brings you out here, son?"

"Erin and I decided to come here on a long holiday," John replied, turning on the charm, complete with goofy smile. "Once we knew she was all done with the doctors. We wanted to travel the world, see a little bit of life. And you?"

"Early retirement," Suze replied, bubbling with enthusiasm at the prospect of gossiping with a younger couple from her own country. "I always wanted to see Australia, so we came over here, hired ourselves an RV and… well… here we are!"

The next half arn passed in a blur of incomprehension for Aeryn, so much so that she was half-grateful for the cover story that she was mute. John and the two human elders seemed to be communicating verbally and non-verbally in a manner which she simply had no understanding of. All she could do was nod and smile politely whenever it seemed appropriate to do so. She completely missed the moment, if there was even a single point in time, when it was decided that the Don and Suze would give them a ride to the next city.

It was almost only when they stood to leave that realisation dawned on Aeryn that that was Crichton's plan and that they were going to imminently follow through with it. She was particularly irritated that the combination of their cover story and Crichton's execution of his plan left no opportunity for her to voice her own views on the wisdom or details of what was proposed. Perplexed and frustrated, Aeryn had little choice but to accompany the three humans outside and join them in the primitive transport. She resolved to find an opportunity later when she might forcefully make her opinions know to Crichton.

'~'

Aeryn had to concede that John's plan seemed to have actually worked. They were soon outside the city, heading north. The authorities hadn't dared to throw up a full, hard cordon, perhaps fearing the questions it might raise if they did so. As John had hoped, they had managed to avoid the sharp eyes of the police manning the soft cordon merely by sitting, out of sight, in the back of the Clarkes' cavernous campervan. Every mile they drove beyond the city limits was a small victory which helped John, if not Aeryn, to breathe easier.

After what seemed like a couple of arns on the road, during which Aeryn almost blew their cover story several times by nearly speaking in response to something or other, they stopped in another service area to use the refreshment facilities. The break gave John and Aeryn a short opportunity to discuss how things had gone and their next move. Aeryn wasted no time in letting John know how she felt.

"I am very angry, Crichton," she hissed, rounding on him as soon as Don and Suze were out of sight and earshot. Despite all of the time she had had to plan what she might say, she found she had trouble now using more eloquent words to express her displeasure. However, the way he recoiled from her evidently unexpected outburst, showed her that her message had gotten across regardless.

"Huh?" John replied with equal eloquence. "What's the matter, babe?" He tried to snag her hand, but she snatched it away, furiously. "We got out the city, didn't we?"

"What's the matter? Thanks to you I've had to keep my mouth shut and just go along with your… your fahrbot plan, or risk exposing ourselves!"

"Whoa!" John tried to calm her. "You know you can't speak the lingo…"

"But I can speak!"

"Yeah, but Sebacean doesn't sound like any human language I know… Well, there might be some, but none as would make any sense. Not with you speaking it and me not, but with me still able to understand you!"

Aeryn conceded his point with a growl, before tossing her hair back, tilting her head just a fraction to one side and fixing him with a quizzical glare. "So, what comes next in this great plan of yours? Do we requisition their vehicle?" she asked, finding herself growing calmer now that she was at least able to speak again and so participate in drawing up their next moves.

"What? No, no!" John protested. "We can't steal their RV. Too high profile. Besides… I mean, we can't do that to such lovely old couple. Not after they've been so nice to us and everything."

"I don't understand, John," she frowned. "How is taking their vehicle different from taking the vehicle of someone we do not know? For all we know these other people could be even 'lovelier' and more ancient? They could even be more of a couple."

"I dunno, it's like…" John floundered, trying to think of a rational explanation. "It's just they're how I imagine…. Umm… I dunno…. You and me if…." His words dried up completely at the sight of Aeryn staring at him open mouthed. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few microts. He evidently thought he'd gone too far and upset her, although for her part, she was not sure what she thought. The idea of spending so long with a recreational partner that they might grow old together had simply never crossed her mind before as something which might apply to her. She knew that it happened, in other cultures. But as something which might apply to her, it was just such an alien concept that she didn't know what to think about it.

"Well, we can't risk staying with them," Aeryn stated eventually, changing the subject and breaking the silence. She decided that she had no desire to explore John's strangely enticing fantasies of them growing old together in more detail at this time. Instead she elected to take refuge in something she did understand: How to evade capture. Once the authorities had time to plan, she was sure they would be able to devise some sort of cover story to enable them to distribute the Earth equivalent of Wanted beacons. When the authorities did that, Don and Suze would instantly recognize them now that they had spent so many arns in their company. She told John as much.

"Yeah, we need to hit out on our own," John agreed.

"So, what do you propose, John?"

"Well….," John paused. Aeryn reckoned that he was making up his plan as he went along and was stalling for a few microts while he tried to think of something. "I reckon we should thank them for the ride, then steal ourselves a car. A car'd be lower profile with the cops, plus we can do it over a few times. Should help our trail to go cold."

Albeit that she thought it was not a well-thought through plan, Aeryn could not think of any better alternatives. Reluctantly, thinking that if only she knew more about this planet then she might be able to formulate a more sensible plan, she agreed.

'~'

A further hour and a half's drive with Don and Suze took them to the next major town. John spent the time explaining the excuse that they needed to turn west, whereas Don and Suze had said many times previously on the trip how they were heading north. They stopped at a service area and shared a last meal together, which John insisted on paying for out of their meager funds. As they finished their meal, John lavished profuse thanks on the older couple and then they said their goodbyes.

"So, next we need to requisition a land transport," Aeryn stated, her face betraying no emotions once again as they watched the RV pull back out into the traffic.

"That's 'steal a car' in English," John said with slow, careful enunciation as he flashed her a grin back. She turned and scowled at him for a microt, turned back to watch the traffic for another microt then stole a glance back at him. He was still grinning at her. It was infectious: Against her better will and judgement she grinned back at him. "You gotta start learning some useful English phrases," he winked at her.

"Tsteel ack ah?" she hazarded. If she was going to be stuck on this primitive rock then he was right, she was going to have to try to learn their frelling stupid language, seeing as they were too primitive to have heard of translator microbes.

"That's my girl!" John encouraged. "C'mon, we'll make a human of you yet." He jerked his head to indicate they should head for the large, nearby car park, probably to acquire the aforementioned vehicle, so he entirely missed the arched eyebrow which accompanied her snort of derision at his suggestion.

"No frelling way!" she muttered and hurried after him.

After a few microts he stopped in a quiet corner of the car park, close to a pair of small transports. One was a new, expensive looking car and a much older, battered one. John took a quick, final look around and then, to Aeryn's surprise he started trying to snurch the older vehicle.

"Why are you choosing this one?" Aeryn asked, standing look out whilst John fumbled beneath the control panel of the thoroughly unremarkable vehicle.

"Because…." John paused as he grunted at something he was doing. "This one won't stand out so much and is a darn sight easier to break into and hotwire than something more modern." He paused for a moment then grunted. "There!" he finished triumphantly as the engine coughed into life.

Noxious fumes and a cloud of small particles surrounded Aeryn and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. However, there was no time to waste –she was well aware that the owner of the vehicle could return at any moment and raise the alarm. No sooner had she slipped into the front passenger seat, clutching their holdall between her knees, than John began to drive away. As she continued to keep watch for potential trouble, she allowed a few other thoughts to partially distract her. Her feelings were so confused: Part of her felt like mocking John's people for their primitive transport and the ease with which it could be stolen; part of her felt like teasing John over his obviously criminal skills in stealing the vehicle; but yet another part wanted to congratulate him on having done it so quickly and efficiently. She had expected that seeing him operate in his home environment would make him less of a mystery to her, but, if anything, it had revealed new and intriguing aspects of his personality.

"We ought to change our appearances a bit more," John commented as he drove, breaking her reverie. He seemed to be headed for the main route north-west, heading out of town. It was different to what they had told the Clarkes and Aeryn found herself silently approving of his subterfuge. "Maybe I should grow a beard?" he snorted, the threat of the facial hair bringing her attention back to what he was actually saying to her.

"Well, I think actually that would work for you," Aeryn replied with the hint of a smile. "You were completely unrecognizable when you got back from Aquarra," she teased.

"Hmph, thank you for that, missy."

"Of course, if you did grow another beard, then I am not sure that I could ever bring myself to recreate with you again….."

"Not even if I tickle you with it?" John laughed cockily and suggestively, squeezing her knee to punctuate his suggestion.

"No," Aeryn deadpanned, completely deflating his ardour and ego.

"So," John continued after a long pause, apparently in order to consider her words, "shelving the beard idea… what else could we do?" He gave her a moment to reply, but when she didn't he pressed on. "You could cut your hair short?"

"You could grow yours long?"

"Not in the foreseeable future."

"Exactly. So we are agreed on that," Aeryn smirked, savouring the banter.

"Good, mine wasn't a serious suggestion anyway." John continued, matching her grin. "I love your long hair, suits you."

"Mine was," Aeryn snorted. "A serious suggestion. You'd look nice with a ponytail." John frowned and flashed a quick sideways glance at her. She didn't seem to be kidding. But then, when he thought about it, a lot of the Peacekeeper males seemed to have ponytails. If that was what she was used to, maybe she really did like that look?

"We could start by dying our hair different colours?" John suggested, changing the subject because he didn't like where it was taking his train of thought.

"Like blonde?" Aeryn asked carefully, remembering Gilina. "Do you…. Do you like blonde…. Women?" she continued, unable to prevent her inner turmoil from revealing itself through her hesitant speech.

"Hah, not especially," John replied casually, perhaps too casually, reaching a hand across and gently squeezing her leg, just above the knee. It wasn't so long ago that Aeryn would have violently batted away such an uninvited, deliberate physical contact. Yet now, for some reason, she found the gesture vaguely comforting.

"Fine," she remarked, staring at John's hand, which remained resting on her knee, unsure of why it was still there or what she should do about it. "Whatever you think is best."

"Blonde it is, then," he replied, briefly turning to flash her a quick wink and a broad grin. She blushed and turned her face away from him, although she turned back almost immediately when he then withdrew his hand. She was sure he caught the look of loss in her eyes as she stared first at where his hand had been and then at the hand itself, now returned to piloting duties. His throaty chuckle certainly suggested he had read her thoughts perfectly.

'~'

It was hot in their motel room. Uncomfortably hot for Aeryn. John had gone out half an arn earlier, just after they had checked in, in order to get some supplies and some hair dye, leaving Aeryn alone in the room. Unfortunately, she was unable to work out how the rooms' coolant unit worked. John had explained it, along with a number of other things, when they had arrived, but she had foolishly not given his words her full attention. As she sat, sweltering and wondering how long John would be, she had plenty of time to reflect on her oversight and on how unfairly she had treated John sometimes aboard Moya.

She remembered that there was a machine at the end of the corridor which John had said made ice: frozen water. What she wouldn't give for a container of that now. She had watched how John had operated the door catch. A little careful experimentation confirmed that she could re-open the door from the outside. Surely it wouldn't hurt if she slipped out for 100 microts and got herself some ice?

A short while later she was back in her room, sipping on a glass of iced water, revelling in her small triumph and in the feel of the cold glass on her forehead. Yes, she thought, she could cope quite easily until John returned. Then she would see if she could persuade him to cool her down further by running ice cubes over other parts of her anatomy. She smiled at the thought.

Suddenly she was shaken from her pleasant daydream by a knock on the door. "Room service!" Came a voice from outside. "Need to check your room." To Aeryn's ear, the voice sounded like the man from the reception desk when they had checked in.

Maybe she could somehow communicate to the motel employee that she wanted the room cooler? She strode to the door and opened it.

And she came face to face with Wilson, who was holding a handgun on her. His triumphant smile was the perfect counterbalance to her own look of shock.

"Yes! I thought it was you!" He crowed triumphantly. "Back into the room, slowly, Officer Sun." Wilson gestured with the gun, never taking his eyes off of her, never getting close enough for her to risk a kick or a lunge.

"Where's Crichton?" he asked, before apparently remembering that she could not speak English. Quickly, Wilson peered around the tiny room, establishing Crichton's absence. "Reckon he'll be back, soon enough. Blimey, this has got to be the luckiest break ever, spotting you out in the corridor just now."

Aeryn glowered coldly back at him before calling him a few choice insults in Sebacean.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones," he sneered back at her. Even Wilson couldn't miss her frown of confused incomprehension. "Just sit down on the edge of the bed!" He snapped at her.

Aeryn stared defiantly at Wilson and then at the gun. "Now!" he insisted, punctuating the command with a flick of his gun. "C'mon, I know you can understand me, even if you don't speak the lingo!" Reluctantly, still hoping for a chance to jump her captor, Aeryn slowly began to sit.

"You'd never have gotten away, anyway, you know…?" Wislon crowed as he covered her with the gun, edging round towards the phone. "Never have been free. We'd have kept coming after you. This way's probably better for Crichton: We might even let him out of the rat cage in a few years, if he's a good boy." Wilson grinned victoriously as he lifted the phone handset, set it on the bedside table then glanced down at the keypad to dial his number.

That momentary lapse in his guard was exactly what Aeryn had been waiting for. Even after her escape from the holding facility, the humans still clearly had no understanding of how dangerous she could be. She was on the agent in a flash, first disabling his gun-hand by seizing it in a steely grip, then head butting him to disorientate him before dropping him for good with a Pantak jab. It was all over in less than five microts.

Aeryn leant down and picked up the gun.

Maybe there was some truth in what Wilson had said. They would always be after her, and she couldn't see John abandoning her. He was too frelling compassionate for that. And, although she hated to admit it, she was sure that there was something more. She was fairly sure now that he was emotionally attached to her, which meant that he would likely not even see reason if she tried to argue with him about what might well be the least-worst outcome to their predicament. She understood more clearly now than ever before that he could never be free while she was on the run, and she didn't want to be the cause of so much suffering for him.

There was no possibility, however, that she would allow herself to be captured by the humans. Not after what she had heard that they had done to Rygel and D'Argo.

She weighed the gun in her hands. It was a primitive weapon, but doubtless effective at short range: The humans seemed to place a lot of trust in their power to kill or maim. It was doubtless quite effective. One shot from such a weapon, at close range and to the right target, and it would be over. No more running in fear, no more risk that they might take her alive. And John could be free. Maybe it would be for the best? A single shot, a fitting end for a soldier, and John could go back to his life and she would be free of the constant fear of capture and what would inevitably come afterwards.

Her Peacekeeper training told her it was the right thing to do, for the good of the unit: Avoid capture, give other members of your unit the best chance to escape. But she was no longer a Peacekeeper, and other thoughts and emotions now battled to be heard in her head.

'~'

John sauntered into the motel car park, a bag full of groceries, including a box of blonde hair dye, cradled in one arm. He might be a fugitive, on the run, but things weren't so bad. He was back on Earth, he had his health, and the weather was fabulous. And of course, there was Aeryn. Oh boy, was there Aeryn. If anything her behaviour was more confusing than ever, although he imagined that a lot of that was because she was so deeply confused herself, especially when it came to anything emotional or concerning a relationship. Yet the shock of their being on the run seemed to have finally broken the strongest barriers between them last night. And it had been fantastic. He was hoping that tonight would be similar. So many signals from her today suggested that he might well be in for another night of passion. Sure, there was still a long way to go, a heck of a long way to go, to fully break through to her emotionally, but for the first time they were together, truly together, and that was a step forward a long, long way.

He dodged round a couple of cars, making for the back steps up to their room. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

Wilson's car. No mistaking it. Was it coincidence or his worst-fear already come to life that Wilson was here? No matter. Fate seemed to love messing with him lately, dealing him the worst hand imaginable. Somehow, Wilson was here: Assume the worst. It took every fibre of his self- control not to drop the shopping and set off towards their room at a run, calling Aeryn's name as he went. But to do so would only draw attention and risk to hasten their discovery. He marched smartly up to the entrance, stepped inside and, only then, once he was sure he was alone in the corridor, did he set down the groceries and run towards their room.

The door was locked. Should he knock? But that would announce his presence. No, he couldn't change whatever was waiting on the other side of the door, but if he arrived unannounced, he stood a chance of making a difference should his worst fears be realised. Hell, with his luck lately, whatever his worst fears might be, he'd bet dollars to doughnuts that they'd be realised.

John took a deep breath, stepped back and then kicked the door open. He paused for a second or two, his mind struggling to process the scene before him. Wilson lay crumpled on the floor beside the bed, obviously no longer a threat to anyone. Mere feet away stood Aeryn, a big, Earth handgun clutched in one hand. Although her face was pale and her eyes dark-rimmed and distressed, she reacted instantly and instinctively to his breaking through the door. Aeryn had the gun pointed at his head even before the door had finished swinging open.

John held up his hands in surrender and supplication. Not that that would have stopped Aeryn shooting him had her training instructed her to do so. "Is he, err, dead?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I… I couldn't…." she began as, pulling the door shut behind him, John moved across to circle her head in a supportive embrace. "I'm sorry…"

"Shh," John tried to soothe her, stroking her hair with one hand, moving on to her cheek a moment later as he pulled her into an embrace. He had no idea what she had to be sorry about or what it was she couldn't do. Hell, he still had no idea if Wilson were dead or alive, even.

"You have to leave me, John," she whispered. He pushed away from her slightly and frowned down at her.

"No way, sunshine!"

"No, really, you see, you can tell them it was all me. You can get your life back," Her words came flooding out, as though she had been rehearsing them in her head, which, indeed, she had. And no one will be trying to kill you anymore, she thought but did not say. Of all the things she feared, that John might be hurt trying to protect her now ranked as by far the greatest.

He shook his head gently before taking her face in both of his large, strong yet delicate hands and pulling her forehead to his.

"If they have me, or if I am dead, maybe they'll leave you alone," she whispered, biting on her lip and snorting back a tear. She didn't believe it either, but she so wanted it to be true, for John's sake. So that he could be free.

"Babe," he breathed and wiped her tear away with the pad of his thumb. "There's nothing in the Universe I'd trade for being with you." He kissed her gently, almost chastely on the forehead. She smiled nervously back. Part of her had always known and dreaded that he would reply like that. Another part of her fought back against the flood of emotions engulfing and contaminating her. But the greatest part of her thrilled at the sentiment behind his words. "And there's absolutely nothing I'd trade for your life. I wouldn't want to go back to my old life if I had to do it without you."

John reached down and snagged her left hand: the gun still dangled from the right. That right arm snaked round John and hugged him closer. Aeryn didn't know what to do next. She had said what she had intended to say, but she had not thought beyond that, and now she felt drained and shattered and completely lost.

They stood in silence for a handful of microts, desperately clinging to each other, until Aeryn pulled away, nodding her head and waving the gun towards Wilson.

"I don't understand how he found us," Aeryn remarked, her voice broken to match her shattered emotions.

"Me neither," John shrugged. "But it looks like it's only him, for now. But we oughta get outta here while we still can. Just in case."

Aeryn nodded and almost allowed herself to be led to the door by John before her training kicked in.

"Wait!" she insisted, pulling him up short. He silently questioned her with a frown. "One of the basic rules in a situation such as this is to secure resources. We should check him for currency and anything else we can use."

John thought for a moment then nodded, realizing that what she said was true. And besides, he thought, it would mitigate their loses from paying for tonight's motel room yet not using it. Aeryn covered John with Wilson's gun while he knelt and rifled through the agents pockets, making a small pile of the useful and a slightly larger pile of not so useful items.

"Should I kill him?" Aeryn asked in a matter of fact manner as John finished, stuffing items into their holdall. In her mind she would simply be eliminating a threat by doing so. Murder was not a concept that she had given much thought to as a Peacekeeper. But the last few monens had made her appreciate that other cultures had strong views on the subject. She really wasn't sure what might be appropriate in John's world.

"Nah," John demurred. "It would give them an even stronger reason to come after us. Besides, better for us if we know who's chasing us. Sort of Dr Kimble and Lt Gerard." Aeryn shook her head once, sharply and frowned to indicate that she had no idea what Crichton meant by his remark.

"The Fugitive?" He supplied for her, but her expression showed she was none the wiser. "Never really watched the series, but the movie was good. We should catch it some time while we're here…"

"Crichton!" Aeryn protested, frustration evident in her tone as she interrupted his train of thought.

"Oh, sorry… Yeah, we should just tie him up and gag him. That'll hopefully buy us time without us having to face a murder rap into the bargain."

Aeryn nodded. She had no idea what Crichton meant by half of that, but at least he seemed to have some sort of logic behind his words.

Ten minutes later they were pulling out of the motel car park, thankful that Wilson did indeed seem to be alone and that no one had raised the alarm in response to either the scuffle of the sound of John kicking the motel door open.

"What did you have in mind?" Aeryn asked.

"Huh?" John replied.

"For our next… move?" she struggled to find the right simile.

John puffed out a breath and shook his head. "Frelled if I know," he replied, not even realising he had used the Sebacean expletive rather than an English one. "But whatever, we'll be doing it together: You 'n me. Butch and Sundance."

He reached his hand across and snagged hers, squeezing it as he turned and flashed her a smile. Against all reason, Aeryn felt herself suddenly at ease. She was with Crichton, he was with her: For some reason that she could not understand, no: that she did not even want to try to understand, at that moment that they were together seemed to be all that mattered. They would work everything else out from there as they went along.

The end... of Chapter 1?


	2. Rocky Road

**Rocky Road (NC-17)**

Not this chapter is rated NC-17 for SMUT: some relatively non-explicit, by fanfic standards, explicit sex scenes. So, cover me in ice cream and call me a prude.

Thanks: Many thanks to Vinegardog for the beta-ing: I've added an extra page of smut at the end, and a few lines here and there.

Word count: 4415

**Rocky Road (NC-17)**

John tumbled backwards onto the bed of their latest motel room, his body pinned beneath Aeryn. He had been almost entirely taken by surprise with the ferocious intensity of Aeryn's assault. John had barely finished shutting the door behind them when she had pounced on him, hungry lust in her eyes. When a Peacekeeper wanted sex, it seemed that creating a romantic atmosphere and getting in the right mood comprised little more than ripping off your intended partner's clothes as quickly as you could manage.

Once John's mind adjusted to the idea of having sex, right then and there, he embraced both it and Aeryn enthusiastically. It only took a couple more seconds for his thoughts to catch up with her intentions, but in that time Aeryn had got quite a head start in the practicalities. Although she had managed to get his shirt off and pants down before he had really responded, he soon caught up. While she struggled to get his shoes off, or maybe get his pants past his shoes, he got to work on her dress.

"Now I see the true point of that garment…" Aeryn smirked, nodding as John threw it away from them. He had unfastened the dress and had pulled it off over her head in just a couple of microts, admittedly with her cooperation. It seemed to Aeryn that it was optimised to facilitate recreation, unlike the fastening on John's frelling shoes. "It had to be good for something," she added with a grunt, finally getting both his shoes and pants off of his feet with an energetic tug. As far as she was concerned, so long as the shoes and pants came off she didn't much care whether she had gotten them unfastened first.

By now John was lying on the bed, half supported by his elbows. He watched, amused and excited, as his shoes and pants joined her dress in a crumpled heap beside the bed. He began laughing gently, the chuckle continuing even as Aeryn began to stalk her way up his legs. In case there was still any doubt in his mind, she made her predatory intentions clear as she paused for a few seconds to scrutinize the now preposterous bulge in his boxers. She inspected him first with her eyes, then her eager, powerful fingers and finally with her teeth.

John whimpered ever so slightly, but held back from protesting. It had long since occurred to him, during months of fantasising, that sex with Aeryn was never likely to be a gentle affair. She had been happy to take things slowly on their first night on Earth, although some of that might have been down to the fact that having sex with an alien was a whole new experience for both of them. Her behaviour now, though, was definitely more in line with his expectations, scarily so.

With a mock snarl Aeryn continued her stalk upwards, closing in on his nervously grinning face. Seeing the way things were going, John laid back, freeing his hands to explore her lithe body, even as her mouth claimed his in a hungry kiss. She did not seem to object that his hands were on a mission to fondle her breasts and her ass. His fingers clumsily pushed aside her underwear as they worked almost as an afterthought. It was only fair, though: one of her hands was tugging him free of his boxers whilst the other explored the musculature of his upper arms and chest.

John's manhood finally sprang free from his underwear and he stifled a gasp as Aeryn clasped him in a steely grip.

"Frell! Now!" Aeryn growled, backing off from his mouth for a microt in order both to speak and to bite his shoulder. She emphasised her intent by firmly pumping his cock firmly three or four times in her vice-like grip.

"Yeah, I got that!" John replied, as manfully as he could manage. He wondered if there would be tooth marks on his shoulder tomorrow. Or finger-shaped bruises on his manhood. Probably both, from the feel of it. He decided it was time to calm things down before something got bitten off: slow and seductive rather than feral and painful.

Flipping Aeryn over onto her back he covered her with his body. A look of confusion briefly passed across her face. Not that she wasn't familiar with a male being on top during recreation, but she had just assumed that this time, with this male, she was going to be the one in that position. Pausing just long enough to be sure that she was staying on her back, John began to wriggle down the bed. He left a slow trail of kisses and caresses down her neck, he paused for a while to minister to her breasts, and then he proceeded across her taut, muscular abdomen.

He'd never been with a woman before who had such well-defined abs: he'd known guys who'd worked out regularly who had less to show for their efforts. Not that he didn't find it sexy, but it sure as hell was different to what he was used to.

Finally, John reached his objective and settled in between her legs. Considering she was an alien, his fingers and tongue found everything to be astonishingly familiar. John got down to the task he had set himself, his tongue reaching out while one hand remained on standby, gently rubbing the top of her thigh. Meanwhile his other hand crept up to fondle her breast. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself and how things were going. He was confident that Aeryn would be too.

"Get on with it Crichton," Aeryn snapped. "Before I die of boredom."

John paused in his ministrations and peered across her belly, trying to catch her expression. "Or old age." Aeryn finished with an angry snarl. To Aeryn, this was just the sort of banter that she would use to encourage any sidetracked Peacekeeper recreational partner to return to the main objective with renewed vigour.

"Umm, what do you want, then Aeryn?" John tried, desperately trying to preserve both his dignity and the moment, desperately keen to learn how to please her, but completely put out by her disparaging words.

"I want you to be more like a Peacekeeper," Aeryn answered, completely unaware of the effect her words would have on John's already deflating libido. She was used to being as direct about her sexuality as about any other aspect of her life and assumed he would be too. "Frell me like you mean it!" she added, furthering the deflating effect her words had on him.

John felt his heart in his throat. He hadn't expected either her negative assessment of his lovemaking or that she might want him to be more like, of all things, a Peacekeeper.

"Umm. I did mean it…." John mumbled, as much to himself as to Aeryn.

"Well, I don't want what you are offering," Aeryn responded. In her mind, and in Sebacean, she was clear on her meaning. She wanted him to do something else, but to keep recreating with her: in her mind, to actually start recreating with her. However, through the prism of the translator microbes and differences in culture and colloquial understanding, John got an entirely different message.

John stopped entirely and rolled away from her, completely dejected.

After a microt or two Aeryn levered herself up and peered at him. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, staring at the window. Aeryn did not understand why he found the window so interesting, as the gauze coverings and their position on the second floor meant that there was nothing to see but the clear, blue sky. Her mind floundered, trying to understand what was happening.

After a few microts he sighed heavily, resigning himself to this unexpected turn of events.

"Still hungry?" he asked. She had mentioned she was on their way up to the room.

"Uh-hmmm." Aeryn replied. She had meant that she was still in a mood to continue recreating, but again her meaning got lost in translation.

John stood and pulled his pants back on. Aeryn frowned, wondering what the hezmanna was going on now. She had never before experienced a bout of recreation which had ended in anything other than balancing of fluid levels or interruption by an un-ignorable external event. She had no framework to help her process this strange turn of events.

"I'll go out, then. Get us some food." John grunted, his voice quiet and low. Without turning to look at Aeryn, he picked up his wallet, checked the contents, grabbed the keys and strode out.

Shaken from her inactivity, Aeryn leapt from the bed, meaning to follow, but his departure was so sudden and unexpected to her that to do so would have meant that she would have had to leave the room naked, which she had worked out was clearly taboo on Earth. She couldn't even risk calling after him and having the neighbours hear her shouting his name.

Aeryn sunk back onto the bed and, fighting a growing sense of dejection, tried to figure out what the hezmanna had gone so wrong.

Aeryn glowered at John as he stepped through the door, back into their room. A more timid man might have turned and fled from her scowl alone, never mind the gun she had pointed at him. But John was not a timid man. He was soon rewarded for his bravery: pretty much as soon as she had confirmed that it was him and that he was alone she stopped pointing the gun at him and put it down on the table. It wasn't much of a reward, but it was better than many of the things she might have done.

"I got us some food," John said. He held up two carrier bags, one in each hand, to illustrate his point. "Chinese…." He added. Everyone likes Chinese food, his mind had reasoned.

By John's standards his voice was neutral and emotionless. It seemed to Aeryn that he might want to see how things would go between them before committing to sharing any feelings on his part.

"What the frell does 'giant knees' mean, Crichton?" Aeryn snapped back, more coldly than she had intended, but it did so infuriate her when he used words or expressions which meant nothing to her.

Crichton sighed heavily, in lieu of counting to ten and starting again.

"Just try it. You'll like it," he answered, his voice starting to show hints of frustration.

"What makes you so sure? Humans and Sebaceans seem to have very different tastes," Aeryn challenged as he placed the bags on a low table and began unpacking one of them. She hadn't meant her words to be a commentary on the earlier debacle, but the brief, sharp look John shot her told her that that was how he had taken it.

John sighed again as he put one of the containers in the chiller unit for later. The container was his Plan B, in case all other attempts to sort things out with Aeryn failed.

"Why did you stop? Earlier, when we were recreating?" Aeryn asked, coming straight out with what was on her mind. John briefly reflected on how typical that was for her. With that thought he began to wonder whether that might have been part of their problem earlier. He paused taking prawn crackers out of the bag, his hand hovering over the table as he considered this.

"I got the impression… that you didn't want… that I wasn't…"

"I wanted to frell, Crichton. I thought I was quite clear about that?"

"Well, yes, but…" John spluttered, taken aback both by her directness now and by the still-painful memory of events earlier. "Oh well, never mind... No use crying over spilt milk."

Aeryn gave John what he termed Look Number Three, the 'what incomprehensible dren are you spouting now, stupid ooman' look.

If they were just going to bicker all evening, then he might as well watch some TV, he thought.

Aeryn watched John finish unbagging the takeaway. He picked up a small black box from the table and pointed it at one of the larger items of furniture. The glass-fronted box exploded into life, colour and sounds pouring from it. John seemed to gently flick the hand holding the small box a couple of times, and each time the sounds and images displayed on the glass panel of the larger box changed. He soon seemed to settle on something, which was currently almost too dark to see: a video of two men talking in a large dark, smoky room.

"Hey Aeryn. Bladerunner's just started. We can sit and watch while we eat," John suggested, forgetting in his excitement that Aeryn would have no clue what a Bladerunner was.

"What the frell are you talking about, Crichton?" she snapped. But at that moment one of the men on the screen shot the other with a hidden weapon and Aeryn was instantly enthralled. She barely registered his words as John answered.

"It's a movie, Aeryn. Entertainment. Trust me. You'll love it."

"I doubt it," Aeryn replied almost automatically, contradicting her entranced body language. John smiled to himself and set about arranging seats, table and food containers to optimise the efficiency with which they could combine eating and watching. A contrary response he could understand – there was nothing deep, mysterious or alien about that.

Whilst they ate, the Earth entertainment continued to play on the TV, providing cover for the awkward silences which sometimes settled between them.

Aeryn was both enthralled and confused by the movie. It was apparently about people who were maybe not really people who were being hunted by the Earth authorities. Rain seemed to fall often in the film, which Aeryn found fascinating. Overall it was bewildering and dark, but she conceded, at least to herself, that it was very entertaining. For a while they ate in silence and watched.

Out of the corner of her eye Aeryn half-watched as John pulled a slug of beer from his bottle and helped himself to another helping of the food he had brought back. 'Giants Knees' he had called it. It was hot and complicated with so many flavours and textures, all mixed in together.

"This human food… It is… confusing." Aeryn remarked.

"But it's OK?" John replied. His voice and manner betrayed a hint of concern that she might not like it.

At that moment the main character in the movie seemed to start eating the same type of food as them. Aeryn therefore assumed it was common on Earth, even though she had not so far encountered anything like it during her brief sojourn. She shrugged and nodded. If she was going to be stuck here on Erp she would probably have to get used to eating Giants Knees. She got the impression that it would be a long time before she would see a plain, satisfying food cube again.

By the time she swilled down her next mouthful of noodles with a pull on her beer, John had already returned his attention to the TV.

'~'

"I don't understand…. What is going on now?" Aeryn asked. There was so much in this move fee which confused her. A short time previously John had assured her that many humans found this particular film exceptionally confusing. She had bitten back her annoyance that John expected her to watch something that even frelling humans didn't understand, becoming distracted when there was a short fight on the screen between a couple of the characters. That, at least, she understood.

"Well, she's confused. See, she's not used to emotions, not comfortable with them. Hell, she's not even sure she should be having any, if she really is a replicant. But he makes her feel things."

Then woman on the screen, Rachael, absented herself from the presence of the man, Deckard. That at least Aeryn could understand, although, if she'd been in Rachael's place, she would have just Pantak jabbed the frellwit for treating her like that.

"Oh, I see." Aeryn remarked and took another mouthful of her food. Out of the corner of her eye she saw John stare at her, as though by doing so he might be able to understand what she was thinking. Stupid Erpling, she thought smugly. A satisfying memory of their first meeting, with John lying on the floor, pinned beneath her, flashed across her mind's eye. From what she had seen in the movie, a little playful violence was not unexpected by humans as a prelude to recreation, so she couldn't understand why he had not understood her meaning earlier. Maybe she should pin John down later and do things her way, she thought? But then, maybe not. Maybe he wasn't like normal human males? Or maybe the movie wasn't representative of them? More intelligence on the matter seemed in order before she launched her assault.

'~'

They finished the Chinese takeaway and the movie began going through a quiet period, with the replicants visiting their creator. John took the opportunity to pull the last carton of food from the cooler unit and fill up two bowls with the contents. Gripped with a sudden, mischievous urge, he placed a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream in front of Aeryn without comment or warning.

John watched closely as she picked up the bowl and spoon and, intent on the movie, absent-mindedly slipped a spoonful of the dessert into her mouth. She seemed to quite literally freeze for a few seconds then let out the most orgasmic groan that John had ever heard from her.

Aeryn flashed a glance at John, concerned that he had heard her. The smug grin he shot back at her told her that indeed he had heard her. She quickly averted her gaze and resolved to be more careful with how she reacted as she began to devour the rest of the bowl. She had an irrational desire not to let John know just how divinely cold and tasty she found this strange, new Erp-food. She wanted him to work harder for his satisfaction than that.

'~'

"So, these … replicants?" Aeryn asked. She put down her bowl, now empty of ice cream, as she studiously watched a character who bore a striking resemblance to Chiana, the young Nebari that they had recently taken aboard Moya.

"Replicants, yes," John answered, currently too intent on the movie to notice her creased brow. If only he had paid more attention to Aeryn, he might have proceeded into their latest conversation with more caution.

"They are human, yes?" she asked. She was scarcely watching the TV at all now. Her gaze was fixed solely on the hapless astronaut.

"Well sort of. Not quite, there's little differences, nothing you could see. Like the lifespan. They're genetically engineered…" John burbled waving his chopsticks as he spoke as though he were conducting the orchestra of his thoughts.

"I see." Aeryn stated flatly.

Something about her tone of voice caused John to turn and look at her now. As he did so, he finally became aware of where this conversation might have already headed. He started to worry that indeed she did see, all too well: humans didn't have much tolerance for any differences, even amongst themselves. He'd tried so hard, up on Moya, to convince her that she'd be accepted on Earth, yet so much evidence, even beyond the fact that here they were on the run, pointed to the contrary.

"And this is how humans think they might treat those who are not quite the same as them?" Aeryn drove the point home, in case he was in any doubt as to what she was thinking. She stared at him with her best stormy glare, waiting for whatever answer he dared to give.

Oh shit, John thought. How was she ever supposed to trust him, now that she understood that their own situation was not likely to be just an unlucky chance, but was really only to have been expected?

John smiled wanly, trying to turn on the charm. James T Kirk never had this much trouble.

"It's just a movie Aeryn," he responded, trying hard to placate her. "Just a bit of….." he stopped himself before he said 'fun' or 'entertainment'. He could already see Aeryn was revving up to bite back about how their own situation was not whatever it was that he now thought better of saying. "We're not all like that, you know, Aeryn?" he finished.

"Indeed, John. It seems that you are not like all humans." Aeryn replied somewhat enigmatically. John, of course, had no idea about her thoughts on him and normal human recreating behaviour from earlier during the film.

"Hey Aeryn, not everything human is so bad." He tried another of his usually-winning grins on her. If it won her over any, she wasn't showing it. Instead of smiling, she arched an eyebrow. "I mean, you seemed to like the food, especially the ice cream?" he continued hopefully.

Aeryn stared at her empty ice cream bowl and considered the matter for some microts. She came to a decision.

"Fine, John, I will concede that humans can do some things well," she agreed after making John wait for a painfully long time.

"Only some things?" He tried the smile again. This time, he got a hint of a smile back. At least, he thought that was what it was.

While John was still pondering the nature of her smile, Aeryn decided that it was time to act. She grabbed the remainder of the ice cream tub with one hand, and John's hand with her other. Having achieved her first tactical objective without any defensive action on John's part, she stood and tugged him towards the bed in a most unambiguous way. John very briefly considered protesting that they would miss the end of the film before he decided that seeing the end of the movie came a very poor second to what Aeryn was obviously proposing. And after the fiasco earlier that evening and her icy demeanour when he had returned with the food, he knew it was probably unwise to piss her off again.

Once Aeryn had arranged them so that they were both kneeling on the bed, facing each other, she carefully and silently set the ice cream carton down beside them.

"OK, Aeryn…" John opened his mouth and began to speak, but he was silenced by a finger across his lips and an absurdly over-serious frown from Aeryn. Obediently, he fell silent, grinning as she began to pull off his T-shirt. With a wickedly seductive gleam now in her eye, she lifted his hands and set them on her dress, close to the fastenings, before reaching across to set to work on undoing his pants. Even he, a mere human male, was fairly clear on what she meant him to do. After a few further microts, tugs, and grunt-filled manoeuvres their outer garments had been disposed of, all remarkably without a drop of ice cream being spilt on the undulating mattress.

John seemed anxious to rush on to the next stage, and his eager fingers were already torn between removing her underwear and exploring what lay beneath. Aeryn gave a little gasp of pleasure, shivering as he tweaked one of her nipples with one hand whilst, at the same time, he stroked her sex with the other. Normally, Aeryn would have been happy with such directness, but she had already decided that this time she would not succumb to such urges. She would collaborate with their undressing, but then she had other plans before they moved on to what seemed to be the inevitable frell. As she gently eased John's boxers over his now-magnificent erection she raised an eyebrow and gave a half-smile to match, anticipating what was to come. It would be worth waiting a little longer for. She resisted the urge to speak, although she was certainly curious to know who this Calvin Klein was, and why his name was emblazoned on his underwear.

John gently pushed on Aeryn's shoulder, indicating that he thought they should lie down. Whilst Aeryn did not entirely refuse to go along with him, she did subvert his intentions sufficiently to lift the carton of ice cream and ensure that they ended lying, propped on elbows, side by side with the carton held up between them. His erection tapped enticingly against her upper thigh, but she resisted the urge to attend to it. Instead, she set the carton down between them, dipped in a finger, and then ran the chunk of melting dessert slowly down his chest, causing him to shiver and grin broadly.

"So that's the way…" he began, but was silenced with an ice-cream laden finger laid across his lips. He grinned and took the finger into his mouth, locking his eyes on hers as he greedily sucked and nibbled at her hand.

Aeryn nodded her approval and soon the sounds of giggles and gasps arose from the bed. Both of them were now careful to refrain from conversation, though. John reflected that it seemed that ice cream and Sebaceans were just made for each other. With the aid of the frozen dessert and a little imagination, he was pleased that Aeryn was not nearly so set on a swift, vigorous frell this time. And sooner or later the ice cream would run out, at which point he was fairly sure he knew what they would both be keen to do. Although he had no idea what had changed her attitude from earlier, he did not complain.

Maybe this could work, John thought to himself as he licked a spoonful of Rocky Road out of Aeryn's fluttering navel?

Maybe this could work, Aeryn thought as she allowed herself to give in to the pleasures of this strange, new, decidedly human experience.

In the background, ignored by both of them, the final few scenes of Bladerunner played out. And John was mercifully, but only temporarily, spared from having to try to explain any more sayings, subtexts, meanings or other human peculiarities to Aeryn. As the evening wore on they both discovered that sometimes it really was possible to communicate better without a word being spoken.

The end – for now.


	3. Learning Curves

**Learning Curves (R)**

Some sexual situations, but nothing graphic.

'~'

Aeryn frowned in concentration, determined to master the task at hand. She was a former Peacekeeper Officer. A prowler pilot. One of the elite. She could do this. No matter how frustrating and fiddly and, curse it all, primitive. Taking a firm grip on the small brush in her right hand, tongue slightly protruding from her mouth in total concentration, she used a spare finger and part of her thumb to unscrew the cap from the tiny tube she held in her left hand. Then she squeezed the tube, just as John had already shown her several times.

"Frell!" Aeryn cursed out loud as a slug of white paste squirted out of the tube, landing on the reflecting surface in front of her. All save one lump which fell into the shiny, white bowl of the hygiene funnel. What had John called it? Think… Oh yes…. Sink!

As Aeryn pondered on her limited Erp vocabulary, a pair of strong arms gently encircled her: large, male hands, softly settled over hers like giant gloves.

"Hey Aeryn, let me help," John's voice quietly and seductively rumbled in her ear, his warm breath tickling enticingly at the nape of her neck.

"I want to clean my teeth, Crichton. Not recreate." She growled back at him. Except that wasn't strictly true. She'd be quite happy to recreate at that precise microt. Indeed, the feel of him pressed up against her back, crotch to eema, his arms folded around her, his breath hot on her cheek, made it difficult for her to think of anything else. But she had a mission to accomplish, and she wasn't going to be distracted, no matter how pressing, insistent and inviting that distraction might be. "Concentrate on the task at hand," she demanded.

"I am," John replied. "And a very nice one it is too." As he spoke one of his hands strayed briefly to cup her left looma before it returned to resettle on her wrist.

"Show me." Aeryn demanded, jerking her hands to indicate the tooth-cleaning apparatus. Crichton chuckled in her ear, sending a shiver of lust coursing through her mutinous body. "Yes, ma'am," he added, grinding up against her once more.

Fighting back the competing urges to either force the impertinent deficient away from her with a well-aimed blow or to frell him where he stood, she allowed his hands to guide hers through the actions that they needed to learn to survive on his planet.

"You line them up. Carefully touch the tip of the nozzle to the edge of the brush. Now, squeeze…. Gently," Crichton whispered, guiding her hands with his own. A small bead of white paste emerged from the tip of the tube, coming to rest on the delicate hairs of the brush. Mission accomplished.

Unfortunately, Aeryn found the whole experience to be almost unbearably erotic, straining to the limits her ability to concentrate on learning the task at hand. Her focus was not helped by what he had been doing with his nose to the soft skin behind her ear. Nor by what his lips were now doing with her earlobe. Curse him, did he have no idea about observing proper protocols? In the Peacekeepers it was strictly forbidden to recreate in any way during training exercises.

"You look nice as a blonde," John mumbled into her ear, giving the lobe another gentle nip with his teeth. He was referring to her newly-dyed hair, which was piled in an elaborate bundle atop her head and held in place with a silvery ornament. She had been reluctant to colour her hair, but had conceded that it was an easy and sensible precaution to help them avoid detection. Having it up also seemed to help and indeed encourage John's neck attentions, allowing his beard to tickle her unimpeded. She couldn't quite decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

In addition to changes in hairstyle, John had been keen on growing his facial hair as a disguise, causing Aeryn to shudder and protest at the memory of how he had looked when they had rescued him from Acquara. They had eventually reached a compromise, although John had remarked that his short, heavily styled beard and moustache made him resemble Crais. This, in turn, had resulted in Aeryn eloquently and enigmatically raising an eyebrow, smiling and pouting as if to suggest that she might find that quite attractive. And that, of course, had led to recreation, something which they seemed to have been doing a lot of recently.

"Was my natural hair colouring not to your liking?" Aeryn asked, a warning tone edging into her voice to match the slight stiffening of her body.

"Yeah, but we have a saying on Erp: Blondes have more fun," John purred back, his tongue and lips once more trailing down her neck, across her shoulder and then back again whilst the weight of his body pressing against her pushed her groin up against the sink.

"You'll pay for this, Crichton," she remarked as evenly as she could manage, trying to keep her balance without putting a hand down on the sink or the wall. Her warning elicited a chuckle from John, which shook her body almost as much as his. However, he was already lifting the toothbrush up towards her mouth. She barely managed to add "Later," before she was silenced by a knob of toothpaste and a toothbrush landing on her tongue.

"Then you put it in your mouth and," John continued to whisper in her ear. "You move it gently around. Up and down. Not too firmly, not too softly." He gently moved her hand, and thus also the brush, in line with his instructions. As he did so his forearm brushed enticingly against one of her nipples, causing her whole body to tense with excitement. The arm-looma contact continued throughout his demonstation, making her fairly certain that he was doing it deliberately.

She had to admit that, despite her reservations about protocol breaches, John had a way with making lessons about Erp enjoyable. With his distinctive, hands-on style of teaching, things were definitely starting to perk up.

"Nggghh ggghh," she grumbled half-heartedly through toothbrush and paste.

"And you shut. Up." He daringly ventured with another chuckle. Aeryn wriggled in his grasp for a microt expressing her annoyance at his last words, feeling him stiffen against her as she struggled. However she valiantly resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs or stamp on his instep or otherwise assault him. Only because this was a valuable learning experience and she'd be a fool to interrupt it, she lied to herself. Nothing at all to do with the way he was slowly rubbing himself against her back whilst they continued the tooth brushing lesson.

She would get her revenge as soon as they had finished their lesson. She would pin him to the bed and see to it that he made good, at great length and detail, on the promises that his body had been making. And after that he could show her how the shower facility worked one more time. There was something about the way it made warm rain that she found irresistible, and something about the sight or feel of her body under its spray that John seemed to find irresistible, too.

At some point though, she conceded to herself, they would have to do something other than frell. If nothing else, they would have to take a break to eat and sleep.

'~'

"One….ha ha ha ha ha," the caped and fanged puppet on the television intoned. "Two…. Ha ha ha ha ha," it continued with some animation. Aeryn, glued to the screen, found herself wondering if any humans had teeth like that. Then, for some reason, she found herself wondering what she might look like with such enormous fangs. "Three…. Ha ha ha ha." She dismissed the concept as ridiculous. This strange planet was starting to make her irrational, she decided. She'd be imagining herself as a med-tech or a lawyer next, she laughed to herself.

"Aeryn, I've been thinkin'" John moved between her and the television, interrupting her lesson and her train of thought. He lifted the remote control and turned down the volume, earning a disapproving scowl from the conscientious language student sat before him.

"I was watching that, John." Aeryn protested, a glowering frown causing her brow to furrow. "I need to learn your lang…"

"Yeah, I know, sorry." John interrupted, sitting beside her and handing her a cup of hot, brown liquid as if in the hope of pacifying her. She had been revolted by the taste of coffee, but had found tea to be pleasant, almost familiar, and so she was relieved to find that it was tea that he had prepared for her on this occasion. "Look, D'Argo and our ships, they've all been carted off Stateside, plus Oz is hardly my home turf." John continued, apparently oblivious to the fact that his idioms were completely unintelligible to her.

"Please try to make sense, Crichton!" Aeryn snapped back, thinking that, if the words that sometimes came out of his mouth reflected his thought processes, then it was no wonder that this planet was so backwards. She smiled slightly, however, at the pleasant memory of some of the other things his mouth could do.

"I think we need to relocate. To the US, not sure how, but…" he began again.

"You are still not making much sense, John," Aeryn persisted, a little less forcefully this time. It was clear to her that he was at least trying to put things in terms that she could understand, even if he still wasn't wholly succeeding in doing so.

John sighed heavily and twisted, leaning over the side of the sofa. He lifted his bag and rummaged through it for a couple of microts before pulling out a map. He turned back towards Aeryn, tossing the bag onto the empty seat on the other side of her, unfolding the map between them.

"Look, we're here, on this landmass. Our ships, and D'Argo, if he's still alive, are over here." He jabbed twice at the map to illustrate locations. Aeryn nodded. If John's assessment was correct then their ships and shipmate were half a planet away. They would need some sort of transportation to cover the huge distance, mostly ocean, which now lay between them. And they would need one of their ships to escape from this planet.

"If we can believe what Wilson and Cobb said," Aeryn replied with an arched, questioning eyebrow. After all, they had very little evidence that their ships had been moved. They had even less evidence that they should trust a single thing that her former captors had said.

"Yeah, true, but in that at least I think they might have been on the level." John sighed. "They'd wanna take our stuff to somewhere like Area 51, not keep it all stuck out here in the boondocks." Aeryn frowned slightly at his latest incomprehensible idioms, but decided that, given the context, she could deduce what he meant.

"Our ships are our only way off of this waste hole," she said, demonstrating her understanding of the importance of the module and transport pod. She could see from his face that he was resisting the urge to pull her up on her unsympathetic description of his home planet. Good. She did, after all, have plenty of good reasons to hold the place in such low regard, starting with Rygel's murder and working down from there.

"So, unless we plan on spending the rest of our naturals on the lam…" John's voice trailed off, leaving the potential consequences hanging in the air between them, unspoken. Despite his strange words once again, to her surprise, she found that she understood his meaning.

"So, this is your world. How do you propose we get there?"

"Frelled if I know…" John sighed. His face falling into a glum scowl, he settled into watching the cookie-monster getting animated on the TV screen. After a short while John gave a slight smile and stretched across Aeryn to try to pull something else from his bag, which was still lying beside her on the couch.

"John! What the frell…?" Aeryn began to protest, annoyed that he was invading her personal space for apparently no very good reason. It was clear that he didn't have recreation, or even kissing or cuddling in mind. He was just intent on the contents of the bag, regardless of the fact that she was in the way.

"Cookie!" Came a voice from the TV, reminding Aeryn of how much John was interrupting her language lesson. She swatted at him and gently pushed him away.

"Chocolate?" John asked, withdrawing back to his side of the couch and holding out a small, garishly-wrapped item towards Aeryn with one of his goofiest grins. She frowned at him, wondering why he had turned suddenly happier. He removed a small square of the foodstuff from the wrapping and held it up to her lips. "Chocolate makes everything better," he explained with a wink, popping it between her slightly parted lips.

And, at least for a while, it did.

'~'

Aeryn stood in the produce section of the supermarket, frowning as she turned the strange, unfamiliar orange fruit over and over in her hand, trying to make sense of it, trying to make sense of why she was here and what she should do next.

She had been on a few supply runs before, especially since joining Moya. But even in her new life as a renegade, since leaving the Peacekeepers, she had generally stood guard whilst the others had made the purchases. But today John had gone out early, saying he had something important to do, related to their stay on his planet and their plans to find one of their ships. Hunger and boredom had driven her out of their room about an arn later, eventually bringing her to this market.

She had tracked down the cookies easily enough, although deciding which ones to buy had been more problematic. There were so many varieties and she had no idea which ones to choose. She had finally settled on something called Tim Tams, because they looked like they contained a lot of chocolate, and she liked that taste. Then she had decided that she might have better luck with less processed foods. That had brought her to the fruit display, where she had found herself almost as perplexed by the strange variety of goods as she had been in the cookie aisle.

She raised her eyes skywards in search of inspiration, only to spot what appeared to be a surveillance camera trained on the area. She quickly lowered her eyes again, not wanting to give the camera a full, square-on view of her face.

Was this what her life consisted of now, shopping for foodstuffs whilst waiting for the pursuing humans to catch up with her and end her life?

She was so lost in thought that she scarcely reacted as an impatient, overweight and red-faced female, somewhat reminiscent of Furlow, barged past her, intent on accessing a bunch of the greenish-yellow hand like fruit which rested at her eye level. Aeryn simply acquiesced, taking a step back and grunting, afraid to put her vocabulary to the test or to draw attention to herself.

How and when had she become so passive? Too scared to do or say anything for fear of drawing attention? It was not right. It was not who she was, who she wanted to be. It was less. She was a soldier, a pilot, a woman of action. It was time to take some. Accidentally-on-purpose knocking into the ample eema of the older woman, causing her to squeal in surprise as she toppled forwards, limbs flailing, into the fruit display, Aeryn dropped the orange, spherical fruit into her basket, lifted it, and made for the tills. A slight smile played across her lips, borne of a combination of the satisfaction of having discomforted the Furlow look-alike and from the determination that she would no longer allow her life to drift towards some unknown fate.

'~'

"John!" The fuzzy sound of Aeryn calling his name was accompanied by a hand rocking his shoulder. "John!" Her voice demanded again as the shoulder rocking continued. John opened a bleary eye to see the not unpleasant sight of Officer Sun staring at him in that intensely serious, deliciously cute, way that she had. To add to the perfection of the moment, she was naked, propped up on one elbow, only a few inches of white cotton sheet away from him.

"You want more?" John half complained, half laughed. "Couldn't you wait till morning?" Much though he found it amazing, incredible even, that they were now making love a couple of times a day, sometimes more, he wasn't sure how he felt about being awoken from his beauty sleep for an encore. A guy needed to rest sometime, after all. All the more so if he was having to live up to the frequent demands of an athletic and voracious woman like Aeryn.

"I'm worried that we can't go on like this," she explained, biting her lip and frowning as she stared at him. Her hand still rested on his shoulder, but, perhaps mercifully, she had not yet pounced on him demanding further sex. Then his mind processed what she had just said, and he was suddenly instantly awake and concerned. Was this Aeryn's way of broaching the Dear John moment?

"Whatcha mean? The sex?" He asked with trepidation, it being the first concern which sprung into his mind. "S'Okay, we'll settle down… honeymoon period," he added hopefully.

"No, not the sex, John…" Her frown deepened, her lips parted in silence, as though, for whatever reason, vocabulary or emotional uncertainty, she didn't know what to say.

John began to wriggle more upright now, as his concern grew and his mind began to process other possibilities.

"What then? You worried about the sleeping together and stuff?" He asked, stealing a hand across to clasp her own. He remembered now some of what little she had told him about Peacekeeper relationships. This sharing a bed with someone, while you slept, was alien to her. It probably made her feel vulnerable, stretched her boundaries, challenged her views on what was acceptable between a man and a woman in a way which mere sex did not.

"Well, yes, that is… this is not what I am used to." Deftly, unconsciously, her hand flicked his over, retaining the hold but assuming the dominant position. "In the world that I come from, you don't connect with anyone openly. And never with any longevity." His heart sank slightly, fearing the worst was about to come. "But that was not what I was referring to." She continued, allowing John to release the breath that he had been holding.

"Then what?" John asked, slipping his second hand across their already clasped pair. Her lips worked without speaking. Her eyes flitted from meeting his to somewhere else and back again. His upper hand squeezed gently, reassuringly, he hoped. A few seconds later, she withdrew her hand, causing him to sigh. "C'mon, Aeryn. It's just you me and the walls in here." That seemed to do the trick in prompting her to speak.

"I'm not sure how much longer we… I can go on like this." She placed her hand, palm down, on the bed between them, splaying her fingers. John watched her hand, unable to look away. "I don't know how to live… trapped on this planet. Waiting for them to come. For the end to come."

John nodded, realising now what was worrying her, why she'd woken him up in the middle of the night, why it couldn't wait till morning. He looked up, catching her eye and giving a faint and, he hoped, reassuring smile.

"This isn't the right place for you," he acknowledged, as much for his benefit as hers. Sometimes the truth needed to be said out loud in order to be accepted as such. "It's not exactly somewhere you can thrive." He'd always assumed she'd be OK here, but with every day, every hour, he could see that it wasn't so. One way or another, living here would kill her. "I'll get onto it in the morning. Sort something out. Trust me, everything will be alright."

He grinned reassuringly at her and she smiled coyly back. Encouraged, his hand stole across the covers once more to try to claim hers. This time she did not pull away, but after a few seconds licked her lips whilst her fingers began crawling up the soft, sensitive skin of his inner forearm.

"Now, since you're awake," she said and rolled across him, a predatory sparkle in her eyes as she pinned him to the bed. Her long hair, freed from its elaborate plaiting, tumbled around their faces, tickling him slightly and then blocking out the outside world. He was left with nothing to focus on but her hungry lips as they locked with his and the sensation of her smooth, strong body as she seemingly tried to rub every possible inch of herself against him.

As she settled onto him he started to realise that he was falling for this beautiful, difficult, nay, cantankerous woman, and falling hard. It wasn't just that he felt guilt, and not some small sense of responsibility about bringing her to this dangerous, unsuitable place, his planet. This place where he had assured her that she would find a home. He did feel that responsibility, but that alone didn't cover it. There was something bigger, something deeper, a connection which he couldn't yet quite define. He was just starting to wonder if it might be love when her hand slipped between their bodies and seized him in a vice-like grip, causing him to discard any thoughts but those centred on the moment.

Grand plans could wait till the morning.

'~'

Despite the wall of sound coming from the television, Aeryn's finely tuned soldier's hearing easily picked out John's foot-falls as he approached the main entrance of their temporary quarters. She picked up the TV remote and turned down the volume, ready to turn it off completely once John entered. The show that she was watching wasn't that interesting anyway: just some sort of self-contained fiction about absurd human mating rituals. John had recommended that she watched it as part of her education about his planet. For reasons which were entirely unclear to her he had called it a 'chick-flick' and had expressed the opinion that 'it was the sort of thing that human women typically enjoyed watching.' After enduring over an arn of the show, that assessment seemed pretty unlikely to her.

Aeryn, being a quick learner, had progressed rapidly from Sesame Street through Hi-5 and then on to Home And Away and Water Rats. John had complained that her watching habits had led to her developing a slight Australian accent. Aeryn had proudly insisted that he was being a total drongo who should go and rack off. John had responded by telling her she should watch some American shows, and had sat her down in front of something called Stargate. That had been a few days ago and she had watched several episodes since. As soon as the latest one was over he had told her that she ought to watch the 'chick-flick' and then had gone out for the evening, saying he had something important to do. He had been out doing a lot of important things on his own these last few days and Aeryn was starting to get a little concerned by his behaviour.

She also had real questions she needed to ask him about Stargate, such as why the humans' adversaries were such bad shots and why hadn't John mentioned before that humans knew about aliens and wormholes and the like?

Despite their obvious scientific sophistication, Aeryn struggled to understand many aspects of the show. Besides her bafflement as to why the aliens were such bad shots, she also disliked how no one on the Stargate team took anything nearly seriously enough. Although she wanted to discuss some of these issues with John and hear his perspective, she had already decided that she just couldn't see herself working in a team as chaotic and undisciplined as that.

She lifted the human hand-gun, covering the front door as John made his entrance, as she did every time he came or went from their room. John held up his hands in supplication, just as he did every time he was confronted by his fierce companion pointing a pistol at him.

Aeryn slowly lowered the gun, watching with thinly veiled curiosity as John unpacked his bag onto their table.

"Not watching the movie?" John enquired, nodding towards the images on the screen. A woman was trying on impractical shoes in some sort of commercial shoe shrine.

"No." Aeryn responded. "Maybe if she were buying combat boots?" John laughed as Aeryn gave a quirky half grin. "What are those?" She nodded at documents in John's hand.

"Our way outta here," John replied, shooting her a satisfied grin. "Tickets, passports… " Aeryn scowled in incomprehension, such things being as alien to her as dentics had been to John. "We need 'em so we can get a plane over to the States."

"How did you get these documents?" Aeryn asked, not really understanding the details, but grasping the overall concepts from their previous conversations. She was concerned that, whatever these documents were, however he had got hold of them, acquiring them constituted a risk that they would be exposed to the authorities.

"Let's just say a wizard did it," John replied with a wink and a chuckle.

"No Crichton, I want to know. If you have compromised our security…" she jabbed at the documents, but otherwise left the implied threat hanging in the air.

"Look Aeryn, some people, they need stuff they can't get legally." He lifted his hands and gave an expansive gesture. "Other people can get them what they want, all safe from prying eyes. All safe from the law."

"You dealt with criminals!" She challenged him, taking a step into his personal space as her voice rose in anger.

"Look, I'm not proud, but it was the only way." John replied, not backing away, but rather placing his hands on her upper arms.

"And what did you do for them?" She spat back, shrugging his hands away. "In return?"

Crichton blushed and looked at the ground off to one side. He obviously didn't want to say.

"What did you do?" She repeated her demand, taking hold of his chin and, with a gentleness which surprised even herself, turning his head back so he had to look her in the eyes.

"Stole a few cars is all. Nothing worse than we've done already." He stared into her eyes, begging for, if not her approval, at least her forgiveness.

Aeryn considered the matter for a few microts before nodding her assent. As a Peacekeeper officer she would have commandeered transports as and when necessary. But she was more than that now, thanks to John, and she knew that it was wrong. Wrong, but unavoidable, and perhaps the least-worst option of what he might have done.

"Best thing now is we get on and get out of here, soon as we can." John backed off a step, lifted the documents and waved them gently in the air at shoulder height.

"Perhaps." She took the documents from him. He didn't resist, letting them slip through his fingers, trusting them into her care, just as she must trust both his assessment of the risks and the documents themselves if they were to follow his plan.

Aeryn turned the strange papers over and over in her hand, wondering if using them really was the best thing to do. Crichton had left them exposed here by acquiring them, by dealing with criminals. However, should they try to use these items, they would be exposing themselves in a different, far more immediate way. People would check the documents, people who would be on the look out for fakes, or perhaps even for John and Aeryn themselves. Crichton had insisted that they needed to travel to the landmass where their ships had been taken, his home… country? She had to agree with that. He had also insisted that they needed these slips of paper to do so. Otherwise they would be stuck here for good. Or until their luck ran out and they were caught or killed. Or Aeryn Sun shrivelled away into nothing. Yes, it seemed that taking the risk of using the documents was the least worst option.

"When do we leave?" She demanded, looking him in the eye. Now that she had assessed the situation, the risks of action and inaction, she was determined to see it through as soon as possible. She could not abide the idea of sitting around dwelling on the possibilities over and over again, frozen into inaction by thoughts of what might or might not be.

John nodded and reached out to reassure her with a hand on her cheek, showing his understanding of how her mind worked, sharing her need for immediate action. "Flights are booked for this evening."


	4. Collywobbles

**Collywobbles (PG)**

Probably just a G, but I'm giving this chapter a PG to be safe.

Thanks: Vinegardog for the beta.

**Collywobbles**

"Any passengers to watch out for, Bev?" the purser asked Flight Stewardess Bev Reid. Bev had just returned to the galley after her first round of serving the cattle-class cargo on their trans-Pacific flight. They served drinks first, to pacify them a little. It would be food next, to keep everyone occupied for an hour or so.

"Not really," Bev replied, stashing a tray in its appointed slot between two metal cupboards. There'd been the usual mix of fretful babies, over-excited kids and nervous-looking adults, but no-one who had really stood out as possible trouble makers. Actually, Bev thought to herself, it wasn't quite true that there was no one to watch out for. There were always people who stood out as possible in-flight entertainment for the cabin crew.

The couple in 54A and B had first caught Bev's eye during boarding: an all-American guy with piercing blue eyes, a smile fit to charm the devil and a very pleasing arse, and his Australian-sounding girlfriend, a skinny, jittery tangle of long dyed-blonde hair, thinly-veiled nervous tension and movie-star looks. From the moment they'd come aboard and started an intense, whispered but short-lived argument, which Bev guessed was about who would get the window seat and who the middle row, she had decided they'd be amusing to keep an eye on. It helped flights to pass with more fun if you could find a few passengers who were worth watching, and it didn't hurt that these two were lively and easy on the eyes.

Bev had been slightly surprised by them during the first drinks round, which she'd just concluded and this had sealed the deal on her watching them for the flight. The woman had not seemed to understand what was being offered to her and she and the man had then engaged in a short and surprisingly sharp conversation while he had explained things to her. Bev had waited for them to finish, in the detached manner her job required of her, all the while thinking jealous thoughts about the woman's prominent cheekbones and perfect teeth.

And, after all that fuss, she'd chosen water and he'd chosen coffee. What a pair of Space-Cadets!

'~'

"Chicken or fish?" The curvaceous, blonde stewardess asked, flashing John a flirty smile, not realising quite what dangerous ground she was treading. John's cheeks reddened slightly. He was keenly aware of how much the woman resembled Gilina. He was also aware of how an already tense Aeryn, sitting pressed up against him in the next seat, would be observing every detail of the woman and his interactions with her and would also most likely have noticed the similarity.

"We'll take one of each, please," John replied chirpily, but, he hoped, not in any way which might be construed as flirting. He glanced across at Aeryn to find her scowling back at him. He creased his eyebrows and pouted a silent 'What?' to ask why she was upset. Aeryn simply shifted her own gaze, looking up to stare a surly warning to the curvaceous, blonde stewardess. Aeryn nodded to John's suggested meal order and a silver-foil covered tray passed between the two women. John, caught in the middle, suppressed a nervous shiver.

"I could have ordered my own food, thank you," Aeryn snapped at John as the flight attendant moved on.

"Oh… umm. I thought… trouble with the drinks…." John replied, keeping his voice low to try to avoid nearby passengers overhearing as he tried to explain his thought processes. "And airline food can be pretty odd, and you're still not used to the food down here anyway. I thought if we got one of each, then, if you didn't like one, we could swap," John finished rambling now, anxious for her to understand that his actions hadn't been about taking choices away from her, but rather about trying to protect her and give her options instead.

"Hmm," Aeryn conceded. She knocked his knee gently with hers under the cover of the fold-down tables by way of acknowledging his thoughtfulness with a public yet discrete display of affection. "So, this is fish? It doesn't look like the last fish we ate. And what are these?" she asked, indicating another part of her meal with a long, elegant finger

"That…. is the ten thousand dollar question," John replied, squinting at the amorphous lump of organic matter steaming on Aeryn's tray. "A tiny step up from food cubes, if we're lucky?" He winked at her.

"I hope for your sake that you're right," Aeryn snorted back. She lightened her words with the merest hint of a smile and a brief, almost shy, flash of her eyes towards John. She tentatively tried a small forkful of the fish.

"Hmm, not bad," she confirmed with a nod and another, all too brief, flash of a smile towards him. John smiled back and tucked into the chicken. Well, it was called chicken and it looked like chicken. It didn't taste much like chicken, though. Back on Earth and still eating weird tasting stuff. He shrugged in acceptance of his fate, allowing himself to be distracted by the in flight movie, which was just starting up on the big screen at the front of the compartment. The Matrix Part-Something-Or-Other. Ah well, no need to put on the headphones, then.

'~'

The plane had already suffered a few, short, minor judders when there was a long 'ping' from the public address system and the overhead seatbelt lights came on.

The disembodied voice of one of the crew filled the fuselage, announcing something about returning to seats, turbulence ahead and their changing altitude to try to miss the worst of it.

That was when the plane gave it's most violent lurch yet, lasting maybe four or five microts. Then there was a pause, a series of judders and another violent lurch, the latest dragging on for a handful of microts. Gasps and cries came from around the cabin, along with the sound of more than one chicken, fish or accompanying beverage ending up where it should not have been. A horrified squeal came from a nearby toilet cubicle.

The second jolt and accompanying shriek shook John out of his post-prandial snooze. By the standards of an astronaut, the turbulence was pretty minor, and John was mildly amused at the sounds of distress coming from some of his fellow passengers. A big plane like the one they were on would take such things in its stride. The forces acting on them barely registered on a scale of his own experiences, which included numerous trips on the Vomit Comet, three shuttle launches and two re-entries and six monens living aboard Moya. He was thus surprised to notice, as the plane hit another pocket of air, that Aeryn, a Peacekeeper combat pilot with experiences which surely dwarfed even his own, sat with her jaw clenched and hands tightly gripping the arm rests.

"It's only turbulence, Aeryn," John whispered and stroked her arm, trying to soothe her, struggling to keep his voice and manner from showing the amusement he had so recently felt about the responses of some of the other passengers. If Aeryn thought that he was laughing at her, heaven only knew where that might lead. Fortunately, any chance of her noticing his previous mirth dissipated as they hit another pocket of air. This was the longest yet, causing the furnishings of the plane to shake and rattle as the aircraft juddered as though it were a land craft being driven at speed over a very rough road.

"Dren!" Aeryn gasped and gripped the arm rests more tightly.

"It's just pockets of air of different density - causes a sudden change in the lift," Crichton explained. He tried to take her hand, but could not prize it away from the arm rest. He settled on wrapping his hand over hers instead, in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"I know what frelling turbulence is Crichton," Aeryn hissed through gritted teeth. John frowned, trying to understand how she could be so distressed. Aeryn, experienced combat pilot, afraid of nothing… except, so it would seem, a little bit of clear-air turbulence?

"You must be used to it - used to worse than this, I'd have thought?" He knew she was more familiar with flying in space, not atmosphere, but surely she must have done some atmospheric flying? Besides, explosions in space battles would surely cause plenty of turbulence, far worse than what they were now experiencing?

"Yes, but not like this!" Aeryn hissed between clenched teeth. The judders died away and the plane entered a period of relative tranquillity.

"It's not so bad," he responded, before realising that perhaps there was a deeper cause to her unease. "What's the problem?" John enquired, rubbing her hand gently and, he hoped, comfortingly, with his thumb.

"Here I'm a passenger," she began. Silence fell for a few microts, punctuated by another long, low level judder.

"Aha?" John widened his eyes and nodded, encouraging her to elaborate.

"I've no ejector seat, no proper harness or other equipment," She paused and licked her lips, as though weighing how much of her vulnerabilities to reveal to him. "There are two people between me and the aisle." She gave another long pause and chewed on her bottom lip. "And….. I am not the pilot. It's the…the lack of control. How can I explain? Here I am….." She paused, something, be it vocabulary or willingness to share giving out on her.

"But you're OK if I'm flying, or Pilot or D'Argo…?" John tried to prompt her as the latest, weakest, set of vibrations died away.

"Look, it's not just about not being in charge of the ship," Aeryn's reticence cracked a little more and she delivered the words in a fast jumble of confession. "It's not the danger of the turbulence, although on this frelling primitive pile of dren there's enough of that. It's the control."

She took a deep breath.

"I don't even have a frelling gun!" She whispered almost inaudibly, at last seeming to come to the crux of the matter. "Do you know how vulnerable that makes me feel?" She turned her eyes towards his for the first time in their conversation, imploring him to understand.

The penny dropped for John. He had never considered that giving up their gun for the flight would make her feel so antsy. After all, having it wouldn't have helped anyway if they'd been rumbled going through passport control or the like. But, he guessed, having a gun to hand was as normal to Aeryn as wearing pants and a shirt. Having no gun was akin to being undressed to the ex-Peacekeeper.

"I… I can… I think I can imagine," John soothed, using his spare hand to sweep a wisp of hair away from her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. She flashed him a nervous smile, so he leaned in the last dench and risked a brief kiss on her forehead, too. That kiss, in public, seemed to be too much for her. Her whole body and expression seemed to stiffen again as she threw up and entrenched herself behind some sort of wall of emotional defence.

"I'll be better once we're back on the ground and through security." Aeryn stated, putting on her game-face and seeming to get more of a grip as the last of the turbulence subsided. However, in contradiction to her stern expression, she finally released her grip on the arm rest and turned her hand over so that she could lace her fingers with John's.

Although the angle was uncomfortable he held her hand, revelling in the contact and implied trust and need, until the turbulence had died away to nothing more than a memory.

'~'

Bev dragged the beverage trolley down the aisle for the third time that trip. The lights had already been dimmed slightly, preparing for the 'night' section of the long flight.

Pausing at row 54 she turned and almost asked what the surly wannabe-actress-type wanted to drink. But the couple were already curled up, sharing a single blanket despite the armrest between them. The blanket had the telltale contours which showed, to an experienced eye like Bev's, that they each had an arm wrapped across the other. Her head rested on his shoulder, a cascade of blonde hair not quite covering up her now peaceful, smiling face. His head was tipped back, not quite resting on the top of hers, a matching happy, contented smile on his face.

Bev smiled indulgently before turning to the skinny young backpacker-type in 54C.

"Could I have a beer please?" the backpacker asked. As Bev poured the drink the passenger continued in a low, conspiratorial whisper, clearly referring to her seatmates as she scoffed. "I wouldn't get too soppy - that girl's high-maintenance."

Bev smiled her best non-committal stewardess smile. What did it matter to her how 'high-maintenance' the long-haired woman was? It wasn't her that Bev was imagining herself snuggled up to. She stole one last glance at the sleeping couple, sighed inwardly and moved on down the aisle.

'~'

"Thank you, thank you, have a nice stay, thank you," Bev intoned as each passenger filed past her to get to the door. Then came her favourite couple for that flight.

"Thank you," passenger 54B drawled back, his gorgeous, ocean-blue eyes locking with hers for a moment before he turned left to leave the plane. She wasn't really surprised when the man's sulky-looking girlfriend didn't reply with a thank you of her own. She simply shot Bev another of her moody glares before turning to follow her boyfriend. Bev spared a brief glance after them, but her delightful view of 54B's rear was almost instantly obscured by the skinny, flat-behind of his female companion.

She sighed wistfully, wondering why the good ones were always taken, as she returned her attentions to the next passenger: "Thank you, have a nice day."


	5. Something Else

Thanks: Once again to Vinegardog for the beta.

Disclaimer: I'm very, very sad that this is not mine, although I'm pretty much indifferent to the lack of money being made here. I don't get paid to watch the show, either.

**Something Else (G)**

"Get your kicks… on route… ninety eight!" John crooned enthusiastically as he piloted their open-topped ground transport southwards. Aeryn turned to watch him, allowing an indulgent smile to play across her face. She drew comfort from knowing her expression would be obscured by the screen of hair which the wind of their passage was whipping around her face. She wouldn't allow him to see her smile: she didn't want to encourage him further. He was far happier than he had any right to be, under the circumstances. John was too easily distracted, not sufficiently inclined to take the dangers which surrounded them seriously enough. If he grew too comfortable with their situation she knew that he might also turn careless and that might further compromise their safety. After all, they were no longer simply on the run. In coming to the United States from Australia it was understood that they were going looking for trouble.

They had been on his home continent for three solar days now and, as far as she could tell, were no closer to locating either D'Argo or their ships. Yet, in spite of their lack of progress towards their key objective, John was clearly in much better spirits. Despite her best efforts and against her better judgment and all logic she found that she was too. Perhaps his groundless optimism was rubbing off on her? Or perhaps it was some strange mood-altering substance in the chocolate or the ice cream? She had learnt during recent days and monens that stranger things could happen than she could ever have dreamt of. She, Officer Aeryn Sun, Icarion Company, Pleisar Regiment, previously a follower of the Peacekeeper hard-line, had deserted her post and was recreating with an alien. Nothing would surprise her anymore.

Not only was she irreversibly contaminated, she was beginning to quite like being so.

Once she was confident that she was in control and her face would not betray her emotions, she gathered her hair together and fastened it loosely behind her head with a large, ornate metal clip. The crocodile, as she had heard it called, was something which John had picked up for her whilst they had been on Earth. Despite its indulgent ostentation, she had to admit that it was an effective solution to swiftly controlling longer hair such as hers.

Mission accomplished, she lowered one hand to her lap and allowed the other to play around the edge of the windshield. As she did, she noticed that the music on the radio had changed and a different song was playing now.

"There comes that girl again," John turned his head for a microt and grinned at her as he sang along. "Wanted to date her since I don't know when."

"Concentrate on the road, John!" Aeryn chided him, strumming her fingernails on the edge of the glass to accentuate her irritation. She really didn't want for them to have an accident. Apart from the obvious risks of physical injury or death, such an event would surely attract the attention of the local law enforcement authorities, which was something they really could not afford to happen

"Keep your eyes on the driving, keep your hands on the wheel, and keep your snoopy eyes on the road ahead!" John sang back, laughing now, his shoulders dancing along to the words, which, oddly, now bore no relationship to the tune coming from the radio.

Aeryn huffed, crossed her arms and turned her head to stare out of the side window. John's hand fell on her knee and gave it a comforting squeeze, lifting her mood slightly. Crazy human, she allowed herself to think. My crazy human, she corrected herself with a satisfied smile. She glanced briefly his way before turning her face back to the flat countryside flashing by beside the car. Her attention was suddenly caught by the abrupt take-off of a small cluster of dark avians a quarter of a metra away. They flew, parallel to the road, in tight formation, reminding her of a flight of well-drilled prowlers. The comparison made her wistful. She swallowed down the feeling along with the accompanying lump in her throat.

"Hey, darlin', fancy some breakfast?" John's unanticipated question cut across her reverie.

"What? Hmm?" She turned slightly, processing the question. Her stomach rumbled, as if on cue, reminding her that it was early and that they had set off from their latest motel-for-the-night without taking first meal. "Fine," she replied with a nod before turning her head forwards to look vaguely at the road ahead.

"I know this great diner," John drawled back, his manner and tone casual yet betraying what she took to be a degree of pride in his local knowledge and excitement at the prospect of sharing it with her.

The flock of birds turned slightly, no longer travelling parallel to the road, and started flying away, still in their tight formation. She watched them fade away with a slight pang of sadness whilst, to her other side, John enthusiastically recounted the many alleged virtues of their breakfast destination.

'~'

Aeryn picked at the remains of her oversized breakfast, separating out the last of her bacon and eggs, sorting out the bits of food she wanted to eat from those she had decided to leave. She had to admit, John had not been wrong, all of those monens that he had spent waxing lyrical about the food on his home planet. The variety and options available were, or at least so she imagined, beyond the wildest dreams of even the most high-ranking of Peacekeeper officers. The waste inherent in the portion sizes was simply incomprehensible to her.

"John, why are we here?" she asked before tucking a forkful of wonderfully tasty, aromatic animal protein into her mouth.

John looked at her, an amused smile spreading from the corners of his mouth up towards his eyes. "For breakfast, babe." He winked and swirled the coffee around his cup before tapping the lip with one finger and then lifting it to swallow a mouthful.

"No, not like that." She concentrated hard on scraping her cutlery around her plate whilst she marshalled the words to express her thoughts. "Here, on this road," She tapped her fork onto an empty region of her plate to punctuate her point. "Heading wherever it is we are heading." She paused for a microt and then another thought occurred. "And where is it, exactly, that we are heading?"

"Ah well you see…. Hmmm" The human was obviously dissembling and doing it badly, avoiding returning her gaze or giving her an actual reply. She secured her more pleasant emotions: affection, contentment and so on, ready to do battle with him should she not like what he had to say next.

"What are you hiding from me, Crichton?" Aeryn demanded, her temper starting to flare up to match her sudden pang of suspicion.

"I'm not hiding anything, hon. Honest." He raised his hands in that gesture of strange, defensive protest which she had come to regard as so characteristically John Crichton. The fire of her anger ebbed a little as she was reminded of all of the times that he had used that gesture to placate either herself or D'Argo when one of them had grown unfairly short-tempered with him. Nevertheless, this time she was sure that even if he was not actively hiding something, he was at least not including her in whatever plan was hatching in his pretty, oversized head. She arched an eyebrow to communicate her scepticism.

"It's more that I wasn't quite sure myself." John continued, nodding his head strangely from side to side but at least now managing to express a coherent train of thought.

"Sure of what?" Aeryn probed, determined not to allow him to get away with more obfuscation.

"Well, if we're going to find our way out of here, we're going to need help," John ventured slowly. He was watching her carefully as he spoke. Probably, she suspected, looking for clues in case she reacted badly and he decided to change tack.

"Help? Hmm." She paused for a couple of microts whilst she considered what that might mean. Unable to come to a satisfactory answer, she elected to come out and ask him what he meant. "Exactly what sort of help did you have in mind?"

"Remember my dad said they were taking D'Argo to a base in Utah?"

"Mmm hmm. So, let us make our way to this you-tar and…" John's growing smirk caused Aeryn to pause. "What?" she demanded with a frown born of irritation and frustration.

"It's a mighty big place, Aeryn. We need more to go on. First we need someone to find out where in Utah…."

"Surely that cannot be so hard? Then we break into wherever they are holding…"

"One does not simply walk into…. Mordor," he interrupted her with a wink.

"More. Door? So, you know where…?"

"Just a saying, Aeryn," He sighed. She glared at him, angry now. Why did everything have to be a riddle of frelling Crichtonisms with him?

"So, you don't know where this… this Moor place is?" she tried to clarify, drawing back from him by leaning into her chair-back and scowling.

"No, Aeryn. I don't. We'll need help." He tried to reach out for her hand but she pulled it back. She felt one of his feet advancing on hers beneath the table, so she pulled her legs back under the seat. Frelled if she was going to let him get around her that easily.

"Fine." She snapped back. "Who?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure we can trust my sister, but…." He let out a big sigh. "There's not much she could do for us. We need more... DK, my dad, maybe."

"Are you farhrbot Crichton?" Aeryn nearly exploded. John waved his hands in a downwards flapping motion, darted his eyes around the room, obviously worried that her outburst had attracted attention from other diners or staff, and quickly put a finger across his lips. Aeryn took the hint and leant forwards conspiratorially, lowering her voice to a dangerous hiss. "It's too frelling dangerous! They will be under surveillance!"

"I'm not so sure. I mean, they don't know we're over here. They think we're in Oz. Maybe they'll have dad's phone tapped and all, but men in black following him everywhere?" He shook his head to indicate that he thought that possibility to be unlikely.

"And what will we do if there are people watching him, people like Wilson?" Aeryn demanded, far from placated by his trite reassurances.

"We'll just have to take it nice and slow, check out the lie of the land before we do anything."

"One of us… both of us… might get killed, John. You know I will not let them take me alive."

Her thoughts went back a couple of days to when they had passed through airport security, on first landing in John's country. They had stood in the long queue to have their papers inspected whilst she had grown steadily more tense. Then had come the moment of truth. Aeryn watched carefully, warily, barely daring to breathe as she watched John go first. The uniformed officer looked at the transit document, looked at John, looked at his computer, typed a bit….. Then wordlessly handed John back his document and looked aside to wave Aeryn forward. She had stood before the man, had been ready to fight, ready to die. It hadn't come to that - just a few microts in front of the bored officer and he had grunted for her to walk on, too. Everything had, as John would say, been fine, dandy, but it could so easily have gone the other way. John did not seem to see it, did not seem to understand how badly things might have gone. And he did not seem to see how badly things might go now with this new plan of his.

"Hell, Aeryn, if we hang around in this diner for long enough, knowing our luck, some dude is going to bust in here looking for a fight or to steal something. Then you'd have to kick their asses into next Tuesday and then the cops…" John rambled on, attempting either to make light of the situation or to point out how much trouble they usually attracted just by going about their lives. Maybe both. Aeryn was still too furious to tell which.

"… Besides, I love you too much to take unnecessary risks." John's right hand lifted and his fingers gently touched her chin then her cheek before he, somewhat unnecessarily in her opinion, moved a strand of her hair aside. She had been so distracted by her thoughts that she had not seen it coming, had not taking avoiding measures. Yet her breath caught as her anger dissolved somewhat and, although she frowned at his use of the L-bomb, she did not resist his caresses.

"Your father could be hurt. Killed, even, do you want that?" She persisted. Now, for some reason, she found that she was much less angry, much less inclined to argue.

"No, of course not, Aeryn. Please, just…." He continued. His voice was maddeningly calm and he had that look in his eye, the one that she found difficult to return, the one that in their early days had set off her temper but which now more often than not made her ache with wanting him.

"Then why suggest such a frelled-up plan?" she interrupted, uncertain as to the extent to which her remaining anger was directed towards him or to herself and her own treacherous emotions.

"Wherever we go, shit happens." He shrugged and gave a sad, resigned little smile, as though that explained everything, was justification enough for what he was now suggesting.

"This is true. And?"

"All I'm sayin' is we shouldn't just sit around waiting for it to come to us." He reached out his left hand and cupped it over her right hand. Then his right hand joined in, sliding underneath. He fixed his blue eyes on hers. Aeryn's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to look away from the intensity of his feelings, to hide from or deny the intensity of her own.

"I meant what I said just now. You mean too much to me for me to just sit around, waiting for them to catch us." He spoke softly, squeezing her hand between his. It was too much. She flushed and pulled her hand away, casting her eyes down to stare at the remains of her meal. "And too much to take stupid risks with your safety, too. But we need help to do what we've gotta do…"

She took two long breaths, just as she had been taught to do once in Peacekeeper training, in order to regain her composure. Her mind informed her that he was still speaking.

"… and I know I should have talked to you about this before, but I wasn't even sure about it myself. I've just been driving us around, trying to work out how the hell we can find out where they've taken D'Argo and our ships. And as to how to access them…" He blew out a breath. Aeryn listened in silence. She had to admit, she didn't have any ideas as to how to go about such things either. Rationally, their chances of infiltrating any secret military bases without inside help would surely be little more than zero. And they had to find out where to go first before they even got to think about that.

"Suppose we do this?" she asked, looking up to meet his gaze once again, but struggling to control her voice. "Then what would your plan be?"

"What… umm?" John verbally stumbled. Aeryn was slightly relieved that John seemed almost as discomforted by the intensity of what had passed between them as she had been. Or maybe he really hadn't thought things through at all? She decided to take it one thing at a time.

"Who did you have in mind? To contact? And how?"

"Oh, yeah…" He picked up his cup and toyed with it for a moment, as though thinking things through for the first time. Then she realised that he was pausing because the waitress was fussing around nearby. After a couple of microts the woman left the potential eavesdropping zone, heading back towards the kitchen. "Well, it's gotta be my dad. Hell, DK doesn't even know I'm alive, or about you. And he hasn't got the same sort of friends in high places. Can't trust most anyone else."

Aeryn nodded, conceding those points. "So, how do we contact him without the authorities knowing?"

"We can't go to his house or call him - he'll be bugged for sure. Every week he goes to mom's grave."

"Won't they follow him there?" Aeryn enquired, struggling to be business like, to explore the worst case scenarios.

"I doubt it - Like I said earlier, they don't know we're here. Just wouldn't be worth having a 24 hour tail on him - surveillance will be all electronic, I reckon. But we can be careful, make sure he's not followed, just in case."

Aeryn thought carefully for several long moments and finally nodded her consent. "Very well." She stated curtly.

"You sure you're OK with this?" John asked.

"Actually, no. But I don't see what other options we have, other than…" A sudden reference from a movie he had made her watch sprang into her head. "Unless we retire to Bolivia?" She dragged up the best smile that she could manage, under the circumstances.

John grinned like a maniac at her reply and leaned across the table to kiss her cheek. "Love you," he whispered in her ear before settling back into his seat. The frisson from the combination of his gesture and his words caused her to shudder, but she thought that otherwise, this time, she had dealt with his affections well. "I hear the weather is wonderful at this time of year. But I'm not ready to retire yet."

They sat staring into each others eyes, growing more uncomfortable as the microts passed. After what seemed like an age she looked down as John contrived to cough before looking away as well.

"You done?" John asked, indicating the congealing remains of their meal. She nodded in the affirmative. John waved at the waitress, fussing with crockery behind the bar. The young woman looked their way and smiled. "Cheque, please!" John called out, flashing her back one of his most charming smiles.


	6. Tell Me What We Experienced Was Real

**Tell Me What We Experienced Was Real (PG)**

**IMPORTANT:** This is the second, alternative ending I wrote for my 'Twist Of Fate' series after receiving hints that a nasty, Farscapian ending might upset some of my readers. I thought, in an infinite universe, with millions of Johns running around leading millions of lives, you could each take your pick of which you prefer. Or, perhaps you can decide that both are right, in different times, different realities. I had originally thought to call this the 'Vinegardog's Shippy Ending' and call the other 'The Mind Frell Ending', until she told me she actually preferred 'The Mind Frell Ending'. Still, I reckon most people who read one will read them both, so does it matter?

**Thanks:** Thanks once again to Vinegardog for betaing

**Tell Me What We Experienced Was Real (PG- shippy ending)**

**Part 1**

Aeryn swirled the drink around in the bottom of her glass as she looked out of the hotel window, fascinated by the sparkling cityscape below, so different from everything she had ever known until just a few monens ago. She swallowed another mouthful of alcohol, relishing the strange, warm sensation it left as it slid down her throat. It tasted smoky, with a hint of sweetness. Far more satisfying than the harsh bitterness of the raslak she had grown up with. Indeed, she reflected, her thoughts about the drink could be extended to so many other things about her new life when compared to her previous existence as a Peacekeeper.

A strong arm snaked around her shoulder, pulling her out of her reverie and back onto a broad chest. She wasn't concerned or startled - she had seen the ghost of John's reflection in the sheet of glass in front of her and had almost been expecting for him to physically reach out to her. If she was honest with herself, she had been hoping for it.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked, nuzzling at her neck with his cheek and then nose.

She allowed herself a smile of indulgent incomprehension at the strange, human phrase. John seemed to pick up on her perplexity and gently kissed her neck. She longed for him to repeat the exercise, but instead he spoke again. Why did he never seem to appreciate that there were better things he could be doing with that mouth than talking?

"You know, these last few weeks? Well, they've been the best… I don't think I've ever felt so fulfilled." She stiffened in his embrace, feeling suddenly vulnerable, scared that he might be about to say how much being back on Earth meant to him. "It's not being back on Earth. I thought it might be, but it turns out it's not. It's being with you."

Aeryn was thrilled, yet terrified. Rejection would have, in many ways, have been easier to bear. Had he felt her stiffen and changed his words to make her feel more comfortable, less rejected? Frell it, why was everything suddenly so complicated?

"When we get off..." He was talking again, seemingly ignorant of her inner turmoil. She focussed on his words in order to still the voices in her own head. "Actually, whether we get off this planet or not, I want to be with you, Aeryn. I mean, for good."

Aeryn was caught too much by surprise to be able to stifle her shocked gasp.

"I...". Aeryn stumbled with her thoughts, blindsided as much by John's words as by her reaction to them. She was feeling things she was not familiar with, did not know how to cope with. She had not felt anything like this since those monens with Velorek. She had not wanted to feel such things again: they both scared her and reminded her of her own capacity for treachery and of how little she could trust herself to let down her guard.

"We can still call it off. If you want," John reminded her, as if she did not know it, rambling on in his ignorance of her innermost thoughts and fears.

"No, not now." Her throat was dry, protesting, as though it didn't want her to say the words. "I want... I think... I want to be with you." She held her breath, scarcely believing she had said such a thing.

"No, sorry," John laughed. "I mean, seeing my dad, trying to get D'Argo and one of our ships back."

She breathed again, relief washing over her that the conversation had turned away from Treacherous Emotions and back to something that she could understand and deal with on equal terms. But if they did abandon their plans to rescue D'Argo and escape Earth, what then? Stay here, wait for their luck to run out? Abandon D'Argo, should he still be alive? No, there wasn't really any choice. They had to go through with it tomorrow, they had to contact John's father, to try to enlist his help.

But, in the few arns until then, she could enjoy her new life. She twisted in his arms and smiled as she rubbed her nose against his.

"Can we get pizza and ice cream, and watch that movie again tonight?" She punctuated her request with a kiss on his lips. "The one about the peacekeeper and the bioloids?"

"Huh?" John enquired as her lips toyed with his once again.

"Dekker and Rachael?" She whispered, grinning as she reverted to another nose-rub.

"Oh... Blade Runner." He smiled and pushed in towards her. His nose nuzzled the delicate skin beneath her ear."Sure thing, Sunshine. And afterwards…?" She gasped in pleasure at his attentions and pulled him in tighter.

"And afterwards, John Crichton, I intend to frell your brains out." She chuckled, her hands slipping down from his shoulders to his eema and pulling his warm, firm body close to her, clamping it as tightly as she dared without hurting him.

"I guess I'd better hurry out to the store, then," he chuckled into her neck.

"Hmm. I guess you better had," she replied, smiling at her mimicry of his words as she pointedly dug her fingers into his buttocks and pulled him closer still. Then, with a determined act of will of which her drill instructors of old would have been proud, she released him, encouraging him off of her by leaning back and slapping his behind.

"Hold onto those thoughts," he grinned.

"What thoughts?" she enquired with an obviously dishonest half smile. He grunted a laugh in reply.

"Later," he insisted. She chuckled, deep in her throat. Indeed, later, John Crichton, she thought to herself.

"Love you," He whispered. Releasing her with a final kiss, he turned towards the door, and the table where his wallet and the door key lay.

"Love you, too," she mouthed near-silently, expectant that the sounds of him leaving would muffle her words so that he would not hear.

'~'

Rain fell in a soft, fine drizzle, almost a mist. Not strong enough to soak anyone in the cemetery, but enough that only a fahrbot person would claim that the weather was dry. Aeryn would have loved to stand out in the open in the middle of the park to soak up the bounty of the Earth skies, but the soldier in her told her to stay under cover, to stay out of sight. Apparently this was where the body of John's mother was buried. John had tried to explain to her how his father came here once every other week. She had understood very well that Jack did this. What she struggled to comprehend was why.

She lurked for a few microts in the shade of the temple entrance, her eyes scanning the necropolis for signs of surveillance - human surveillance. She tried not to think about how bizarre, how typically human it was to devote so much space and resource to the disposal of the corpses of their dead. She remembered staring, the Peacekeeper in her dumbstruck with disbelief, when John had explained the concept to her a few days previously. And yet, the whole concept did not annoy her as it once might have done. What was so wrong with a calm place devoted to the memory of those who had died, but had meant something to you, anyway? She snorted in derision at her own thoughts. The human was clearly rubbing off on her.

She could just about make out the human- her human. He was on the other side of the cemetery, watching his father from a distance, checking that he had not been followed, just as she was checking that there was no-one already waiting there for his arrival. John seemed satisfied that Jack had not been followed, because now she could see that he was moving to catch up with him at a junction between three of the paths which wound their way through the park. Everything seemed to be going fine.

She checked her human-made pistol once again, suddenly nervous about how well things were going.

She looked up just in time to see John step out from behind a shrub onto one of the paths, barely five motras from his father.

"John?" Jack asked, turning his head, his mouth hanging half open in shock as his brows knotted. His voice was barely audible to Aeryn, could not have been heard at all had the light breeze not been in her favour.

"Dad..." She heard John reply as, hand outstretched, he took a step towards his clearly-stunned father. To Aeryn, Jack seemed reluctant to turn fully towards his son, as though in doing so he would be facing up to and accepting something which was unacceptable to him in some way that Aeryn could only dream of. Was it fear for his son, or fear of his son?

"But you're… you're not…" Jack struggled to find the words. "You shouldn't have come. It's too risky. What if they were having me watched?"

"I had to, dad." John replied. "Aeryn... She..."

Hearing her name, Aeryn paused in scanning the area to look towards John - John and Jack were standing almost toe to toe, but now were both looking her way.

"Hell, son, you should never have come," Jack wrinkled his brow and flashed a grimace at Aeryn before turning his gaze back on John. "I told you not to... I told you..."

"Dad, we need to try to get back to Moya, our big ship. If we stay on Earth, we're always going to be looking over our shoulders. There's always gonna be people chasing us. So I need you to help us rescue D'Argo, get to one of our ships. I didn't know who else to ask..."

Jack stared at John for a couple of seconds, before shaking his head. "D'Argo is dead, son, and as for your ships, they're both in pieces in Area 51. No way they'd take you anywhere, even if you could get close to them. Security is tighter than a minister's wife's girdle. There's no way in..."

"There must be something..." John exclaimed, gesturing frantically with his arms, trying to deny the truth of his father's words, but Jack shook his head.

"I'm so sorry, son," Jack said, laying a comforting hand on John's elbow.

"Frell!" Aeryn hissed. Once again, all of their hopes and plans were in ruins. Had meeting up with Jack all been for nothing? Would there ever be a time when things would go their way?

'~'

**Part 2**

'~'

Aeryn could not deny that she had been more than a little nervous about the three of them travelling to Jack Crichton's house for refreshment and to discuss their next moves, and remained on edge every microt she spent in his ground transport or residence. Jack had assured them both that he was not been closely watched, as Wilson and his associates thought that Aeryn and John were still in Australia. Jack seemed to think he could be sure of that because he was part of the team working on trying to unravel the mysteries of the various alien artefacts that they had brought with them. John had seemed happy to accept Jack's assurances of safety, but then, since when had he shown a talent for avoiding trouble?

Since arriving at Jack's house, John had spent the last half arn coming out with one crazy plan after another to infiltrate the facilities where D'Argo and their ships and their other off-world possessions had been taken, only to have Jack immediately tell him why each plan would not work. Aeryn sat despondently at the dining room table, her pistol always within easy reach, nibbling at a slice of pizza and doodling on some paper, her spoken English not up to the task of joining in with the two men. That didn't mean she wasn't following their conversation with increasing frustration, though. To her mind, John was failing to focus on a minimal-risk feasible plan to achieve their objective, instead spending all of his efforts on flamboyant or elaborate high-risk strategies. The men seemed too busy talking for her to get a word in edgeways, but that didn't stop her from having an idea. Although, being a Peacekeeper crèche-brat, her artistic skills were limited, she set about drawing a quick sketch of her thoughts.

At a pause in the two men's deliberations, Aeryn loudly cleared her throat, held up her drawing and pointed at it. It showed something about the size of a credit card, but thicker. "Jack, these are our..." she paused, struggling to find the English word.

"They're our communicators, dad," John interjected, explaining to his father and nodding frantically. Aeryn nodded and gave him a wan smile of thanks. John beamed back and covered her hand in a comforting gesture. Jack's eyes flashed from one to the other, forced by the public display of affection to see and accept what Aeryn meant to John.

"We talk to our big ship. Could you... get one for us?" Aeryn asked Jack with the slow deliberation of one still very new to speaking English.

"Yeah!" John clapped his hands together and grinned even more. "What do you reckon, dad?"

"I... ummm," Jack paced back and forth in front of them, staring at the kitchen floor, struggling with his thoughts and with the blunt unavoidability of this new reality, that his son might be leaving Earth once again. He stopped and forced out a smile. "I think I know where they might be kept. I'll see what I can do, son." Aeryn had already worked out that Jack felt more than a little uncomfortable regarding her, so was not in the least surprised that he had replied to John rather than to her.

"Great dad," John beamed and threw and arm around Aeryn's shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled, causing another, ill-concealed nervous and uncomfortable look to cross Jack's face.

'~'

"You two were so lucky," Jack remarked, closing the front door and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He started to unwrap an object from it as he walked the short distance into the middle of the living room. Aeryn stood from her seat on the sofa and peered forward, keen to confirm what she hoped it would be. "Because they had a whole bunch of these, and because they've got lots of more exciting stuff to look at, the lab guys just put most of them into storage. I've signed it out to one of the research teams - it'll be a day or so before anyone starts asking questions."

"Thanks dad. Owe you big time." John rested his hand on Jack's shoulder.

Aeryn reached out and took the badge from Jack's hand - she noticed that he seemed to recoil slightly from her touch, but she dismissed the impression as trivial. She had for more important priorities than dwelling on his possible prejudices about aliens.

"Pilot, Pilot can you hear me?" Aeryn asked rapidly in Sebacean, holding the precious comms badge in her cupped hands. In the long silence which followed, Aeryn sank, dejectedly back into her seat. He face fell, first into sadness then into a stoical mask. Her plan had always been unlikely to work, after all. Moya had been on the other side of the wormhole, and they had been gone for weekens.

"Oh, hon, it was a long shot..." John rested a comforting hand on her shoulder then cradled her head against his shoulder, deepening the hug. Jack looked away. "We just have to..."

"Officer Sun?" A familiar, soft male voice crackled over the comms. "Is that really you? It has been so long, I was giving up hope..."

"Pilot, is that really you?" Aeryn's face lit up as she pulled away from John and lifted the comms badge back up to her mouth. Even Jack smiled, despite that part of him which seemed uneasy about Aeryn. John beamed broadly, first at Aeryn, who remained intent on the comms badge in her hands, then at his father, who grinned back at him and slapped him on the shoulder.

"How, I mean, it's been weekens?" Aeryn continued speaking to Pilot.

"Moya was pulled through the wormhole shortly after your transport pod. Since then we have been hiding in the large asteroid field between the fourth and fifth planets, trying to contact you and waiting for another wormhole. Is everyone well? John Crichton, Dominar Rygel, Ka...?"

"No, Pilot, I am afraid they are not." Aeryn interrupted, steeling her voice, determined to be strong and not to show emotion. "Only John and I. The others are dead. I am sorry."

There was a long pause. "Moya and I are most sad to hear that."

"We've had a rough time, Pilot," John contributed. "We don't have our ships anymore."

"That is most unfortunate," Pilot said.

"You need to send down my Prowler, Pilot." Aeryn continued. "If you engage stealth mode and set the auto-pilot to home in on the signal from this comms badge..."

"We will get on to it straight away, Aeryn, "Zhaan's calm, authoritative voice broke in. "Would you like me to come down, to bring anything?"

"No, Zhaan," Aeryn shook her head, despite the priestess being unable to see the gesture. "Too much of a risk for you. Besides, you're no pilot. Better leave it to the Prowler's automatics."

"Very well," Pilot continued. There was a short pause, probably while he checked something. "The Prowler should be with you in... just under two arns."

"Two arns, then, Aeryn out." She put down the badge on the counter and looked at the two men, waiting for one of them to say something, worried that Jack would try to persuade John to stay, fearful that John would want to.

"We've got about two hours then, dad," John said a tone of determination entering his voice to match the expression on his face. "Then Aeryn and me'll be gone."

"I... don't want to lose you, son," Jack held out his hand towards his son. Aeryn held her breath, waiting for John's reply.

"Dad, I'm with Aeryn now. And we have to go."

"I know." Jack nodded then lowered his eyes to the floor. "I know, son."

"I just want to gather a few things to take back with me, then we need you to drive out to somewhere isolated." John continued, his fidgeting manner betraying his racing thoughts. "I mean, the stealth systems on Aeryn's Prowler are like nothing on Earth, but I reckon we still can't exactly afford to have it land on your front lawn."

John smiled. Jack forced a smile back, determined to take his loss with a brave face.

'~'

The next couple of hours passed in a whirlwind: John had rushed around Jack's house, throwing anything which caught his eye and his fancy into a pair of bags, seemingly oblivious to the awkward couple waiting in the living room, struggling to know what to say to each other. Then had come a quick drive out into the country, a short, tongue-tied goodbye between John and Jack when the Prowler had landed, followed by a near silent flight back to Moya.

Aeryn had hardly said anything the whole time - as the flight to Moya passed, John finally found the time to start to worry about what her sudden silence might signify. His biggest fear was that their return to Moya would mark a return to her previous haughty distance from him.

"I... umm..." John ventured, trying to find a means of broaching a conversation with her. "It's really sad we couldn't save D'Argo. Or Rygel" A long silence greeted his words, causing him to wonder if she had even heard him.

"Peacekeepers are taught to regard anyone captured by an enemy as lost," she eventually replied. John considered how to respond to that for several heartbeats.

"But maybe you've moved beyond that, now? And it hurts?" John enquired, trying to make out how she had reacted to his question through the opaque backrest of the pilot's seat.

"We are also taught that emotional attachments are a dangerous indulgence," she responded, her voice still quiet and emotionless.

"But now, you don't see things quite like that, right?" John tried again.

"I can see that my instructors had a point," she answered flatly. Well, I'm glad we cleared that up, thought John. But he was unable to pursue the matter further, as Moya could now be seen as a faint dot in front of them, and Aeryn had begun to busy herself in preparing to land.

Once in the docking bay, Aeryn had, without saying a further word, popped the hatch on the Prowler and climbed out, carrying one of their bags to find only Zhaan and the new girl - Jana? waiting for them. Without speaking to anyone, or even waiting for John to climb down, she had marched from the bay. John guessed that the obvious absence of D'Argo and Rygel had proven too much for Aeryn, but he was left with a thousand questions about what to tell the others, not least about where he now stood with regards to his ex-Peacekeeper shipmate.

Zhaan tilted her head, frowned sympathetically and stepped forward, arm outstretched towards him.

"Tell me John, what happened?"

'~'

Half an arn later, with Pilot's help, John had found Aeryn standing alone on Moya's terrace, staring out into space, arms crossed across her stomach, one leg slightly extended out to one side. He was sure she heard him enter and walk up behind her, but she neither moved nor spoke to acknowledge his presence.

"Hey," John ventured, coming to stand just behind her, but not yet daring to touch her. Did coming back to Moya mark a return to their old, slightly distant relationship? "Zhaan, Pilot, everyone... they want to know if you are OK."

She snorted derisively.

"Aeryn, are you OK?" She took a deep breath, as though summoning her thoughts. John waited patiently for her answer.

"I liked your world. I mean, apart from the people trying to kill us and everything." Aeryn ventured with a slight shake of her head. "It had its good points."

"But now we're back here?" John asked, fearful that now they were back in her world, she would be tempted to reset their relationship back to where it had been before their trip to Earth.

"Back where we started," Aeryn replied with a nod. John wasn't sure whether it was a statement or a question, so, half fearful of the answer, but needing to know, he ventured an opinion.

"You know, I meant what I said, the other night, the day before we met my dad in the cemetery. I don't want to go back to the way we were before."

Aeryn stared ahead silently, giving nothing away in words, stance or expression. Maybe he should try another tack. Rather than try to get her to express how she felt in words, he should offer her something more tangible, something that she might feel more comfortable with?

"I... umm... you know I brought a few things from Earth. Not ice cream, though. It wouldn't stay frozen."

She twisted her head round to glance at him, her expression still giving nothing away, then quickly turned her face back to space. If he hadn't wanted her so much, if he hadn't had that taste of how good they could be together, would he have persisted in the face of such a lack of encouragement? He nervously slipped his arms around her and was half-surprised to find her taking his arms in her hands and securing the embrace.

"We've got chocolate, and, umm, a little machine to play DVDs on. I made sure I picked up your favourite movie... "

He paused, waiting for some reaction from her, anything. The seconds ticked by and John's hopes began to sink again, despite the fact she was still allowing him to hold her.

"I... I want to live, John." She whispered at last, still not turning to face him. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, as if to ward off the chill of space.

"What, like with chocolate, and movies, and..." he paused, summoning the courage to ask what was most on his mind. "Me?" He concluded in a hopeful whisper.

Aeryn gave a single nod. "Let's go back to your quarters, John. Talking to the others can wait till tomorrow."

John breathed out what seemed to be a long held breath as he turned her, took her hand and began to lead her away.

"You know, I don't know how long we'll have together..." he smiled encouragingly at her as they exited the terrace and entered Moya's golden corridors. "But then again, who does?"

The end


	7. Like Tears In Rain

**Like Tears In Rain (PG)**

**IMPORTANT:** And now, at last, we come to the end of my 'Twist Of Fate' series. I wish I didn't have to end it. I wish I could think of more chapters, but I can't. This is always the ending I'd intended for it - I have an early draft of this from January 2012. Still, if you find this is not to your liking, I have an Equal and Original alternative ending posted in 'Tell Me What We Experienced Was Real.' I had originally thought to call the other ending 'Vinegardog's Shippy Ending' and call this 'The Mind Frell Ending', until she told me she actually preferred this version. Still, I reckon most people who read one will read them both, so does it matter? In an infinite universe there are millions of Johns running around leading millions of lives, after all.

**Thanks**: Thanks once again to Vinegardog for betaing

**Like Tears In Rain (PG - My original, Mind Frell ending)**

**Part 1**

Aeryn swirled the drink around in the bottom of her glass as she looked out of the hotel window, fascinated by the sparkling cityscape below, so different from everything she had ever known until just a few monens ago. She swallowed another mouthful of alcohol, relishing the strange, warm sensation it left as it slid down her throat. It tasted smoky, with a hint of sweetness. Far more satisfying than the harsh bitterness of the raslak she had grown up with. Indeed, she reflected, her thoughts about the drink could be extended to so many other things about her new life when compared to her previous existence as a Peacekeeper.

A strong arm snaked around her shoulder, pulling her out of her reverie and back onto a broad chest. She wasn't concerned or startled - she had seen the ghost of John's reflection in the sheet of glass in front of her and had almost been expecting for him to physically reach out to her. If she was honest with herself, she had been hoping for it.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked, nuzzling at her neck with his cheek and then nose.

She allowed herself a smile of indulgent incomprehension at the strange, human phrase. John seemed to pick up on her perplexity and gently kissed her neck. She longed for him to repeat the exercise, but instead he spoke again. Why did he never seem to appreciate that there were better things he could be doing with that mouth than talking?

"You know, these last few weeks? Well, they've been the best… I don't think I've ever felt so fulfilled." She stiffened in his embrace, feeling suddenly vulnerable, scared that he might be about to say how much being back on Earth meant to him. "It's not being back on Earth. I thought it might be, but it turns out it's not. It's being with you."

Aeryn was thrilled, yet terrified. Rejection would have, in many ways, have been easier to bear. Had he felt her stiffen and changed his words to make her feel more comfortable, less rejected? Frell it, why was everything suddenly so complicated?

"When we get off..." He was talking again, seemingly ignorant of her inner turmoil. She focussed on his words in order to still the voices in her own head. "Actually, whether we get off this planet or not, I want to be with you, Aeryn. I mean, for good."

Aeryn was caught too much by surprise to be able to stifle her shocked gasp.

"I...". Aeryn stumbled with her thoughts, blindsided as much by John's words as by her reaction to them. She was feeling things she was not familiar with, did not know how to cope with. She had not felt anything like this since those monens with Velorek. She had not wanted to feel such things again: they both scared her and reminded her of her own capacity for treachery and of how little she could trust herself to let down her guard.

"We can still call it off. If you want," John reminded her, as if she did not know it, rambling on in his ignorance of her innermost thoughts and fears.

"No, not now." Her throat was dry, protesting, as though it didn't want her to say the words. "I want... I think... I want to be with you." She held her breath, scarcely believing she had said such a thing.

"No, sorry," John laughed. "I mean, seeing my dad, trying to get D'Argo and one of our ships back."

She breathed again, relief washing over her that the conversation had turned away from Treacherous Emotions and back to something that she could understand and deal with on equal terms. But if they did abandon their plans to rescue D'Argo and escape Earth, what then? Stay here, wait for their luck to run out? Abandon D'Argo, should he still be alive? No, there wasn't really any choice. They had to go through with it tomorrow, they had to contact John's father, to try to enlist his help.

But, in the few arns until then, she could enjoy her new life. She twisted in his arms and smiled as she rubbed her nose against his.

"Can we get pizza and ice cream, and watch that movie again tonight?" She punctuated her request with a kiss on his lips. "The one about the peacekeeper and the bioloids?"

"Huh?" John enquired as her lips toyed with his once again.

"Dekker and Rachael?" She whispered, grinning as she reverted to another nose-rub.

"Oh... Blade Runner." He smiled and pushed in towards her. His nose nuzzled the delicate skin beneath her ear."Sure thing, Sunshine. And afterwards…?" She gasped in pleasure at his attentions and pulled him in tighter.

"And afterwards, John Crichton, I intend to frell your brains out." She chuckled, her hands slipping down from his shoulders to his eema and pulling his warm, firm body close to her, clamping it as tightly as she dared without hurting him.

"I guess I'd better hurry out to the store, then," he chuckled into her neck.

"Hmm. I guess you better had," she replied, smiling at her mimicry of his words as she pointedly dug her fingers into his buttocks and pulled him closer still. Then, with a determined act of will of which her drill instructors of old would have been proud, she released him, encouraging him off of her by leaning back and slapping his behind.

"Hold onto those thoughts," he grinned.

"What thoughts?" she enquired with an obviously dishonest half smile. He grunted a laugh in reply.

"Later," he insisted. She chuckled, deep in her throat. Indeed, later, John Crichton, she thought to herself.

"Love you," He whispered. Releasing her with a final kiss, he turned towards the door, and the table where his wallet and the door key lay.

"Love you, too," she mouthed near-silently, expectant that the sounds of him leaving would muffle her words so that he would not hear.

'~'

Rain fell in a soft, fine drizzle, almost a mist. Not strong enough to soak anyone in the cemetery, but enough that only a fahrbot person would claim that the weather was dry. Aeryn would have loved to stand out in the open in the middle of the park to soak up the bounty of the Earth skies, but the soldier in her told her to stay under cover, to stay out of sight. Apparently this was where the body of John's mother was buried. John had tried to explain to her how his father came here once every other week. She had understood very well that Jack did this. What she struggled to comprehend was why.

She lurked for a few microts in the shade of the temple entrance, her eyes scanning the necropolis for signs of surveillance - human surveillance. She tried not to think about how bizarre, how typically human it was to devote so much space and resource to the disposal of the corpses of their dead. She remembered staring, the Peacekeeper in her dumbstruck with disbelief, when John had explained the concept to her a few days previously. And yet, the whole concept did not annoy her as it once might have done. What was so wrong with a calm place devoted to the memory of those who had died, but had meant something to you, anyway? She snorted in derision at her own thoughts. The human was clearly rubbing off on her.

She could just about make out the human- her human. He was on the other side of the cemetery, watching his father from a distance, checking that he had not been followed, just as she was checking that there was no-one already waiting there for his arrival. John seemed satisfied that Jack had not been followed, because now she could see that he was moving to catch up with him at a junction between three of the paths which wound their way through the park. Everything seemed to be going fine.

She checked her human-made pistol once again, suddenly nervous about how well things were going.

She looked up just in time to see John step out from behind a shrub onto one of the paths, barely five motras from his father.

"John?" Jack asked, turning his head, his mouth hanging half open in shock as his brows knotted. His voice was barely audible to Aeryn, could not have been heard at all had the light breeze not been in her favour.

"Dad..." She heard John reply as, hand outstretched, he took a step towards his clearly-stunned father. To Aeryn, Jack seemed reluctant to turn fully towards his son, as though in doing so he would be facing up to and accepting something which was unacceptable to him in some way that Aeryn could only dream of. Was it fear for his son, or fear of his son?

"But you're… you're not…"

Aeryn's attention was snatched away from the exchange as she noticed a third figure, dressed in what must have been an uncomfortably warm heavy coat, emerge from behind a tree. She saw the human begin to pull something small and metallic from beneath that coat. How could she not have noticed them before? Even as she wondered at her oversight, the newcomer's hands came together and started to rise, the object held firmly between them. To Aeryn's professional eye, it looked like they were pulling a hand-weapon on John. If she cried out and tried to warn John, she would draw attention to herself, leaving herself less able to act. However, the attacker had their back to her - if she moved now, she might have just enough time to intervene.

She sprang forward, closing on the figure with all the speed and stealth of an elite Peacekeeper commando.

She bowled over the would-be assailant, knocking him out from behind his cover. They wrestled on the ground for a microt, fighting for control of what was now clearly visible as some sort of gun before Aeryn got the upper hand and managed to get in an unimpeded strike to her opponent. There was a sickening thud as her hand connected with his head and the man went instantly limp.

Aeryn looked up, towards John - she could see John and Jack, standing almost toe to toe, but now both looking her way. In a microt, she took on the look of shock on Jack's face, and the look of horror on John's. John held his hand out towards her and opened his mouth to speak. Then something small and hard struck her in the back, the force bowling her over, rolling her face-forwards over and off of her victim. She barely felt the second impact as something else struck her leg.

"Aeryn!" John's anguished, strangled cry reached her as though her head was buried beneath thick, heavy bedding.

'~'

John pulled Aeryn's now limp body closer. His eyes took in the darts – one in her leg, one in her shoulder. She struggled to say something but only a gurgling sound emerged. He brushed a strand of ebony hair from her face and gulped back a strangled cry of his own.

He looked around, trying to catch sight of the second trench-coated figure, the one who had shot Aeryn. From the edges of his vision John could see a trio of large, black off-roaders in the parking lot. A host of black-clad paramilitaries were disgorging from them, heading their way. In just a couple of seconds the newcomers were carefully spreading out and moving towards them in formation, their weapons held out and sighted towards him and Aeryn. Still cradling Aeryn, John looked frantically around him, trying to see some route, some means by which they might still escape. But there was none.

"John!" He heard his father call. "Who…?"

He looked down at Aeryn's head, cradled in his lap and hands. Her skin was pale, her breath ragged. Her eyes fluttered as though, even now, she wrestled to stay awake, fought against the death of all of their hopes, indeed, against the loss of their very lives. Then her eyes rolled back in their sockets and all sign of consciousness left her.

He couldn't let them take her, couldn't let them do to her what they had done to Rygel and, most likely by now, to D'Argo. It wasn't just the promises she had made him make to her. John knew now that he could not live with knowing that she had been taken and subjected to such horrors as his two other shipmates had been subjected to. One bullet was all that was left in the handgun. John pressed his mouth to hers, lifting her head slightly with his free hand so that he could get the angle he needed with his right, gun hand. The angle which he hoped would kill them both with a single bullet.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm so sorry!" A single tear fell from John's eye onto Aeryn's face, which was still damp from the rain, and was instantly lost to sight, absorbed into its surroundings.

There were so many things he'd wanted to say to her, so many things to experience together.

His heart sunk. He had lost. All of the hopes of a life with Aeryn which had been growing in him were now surely dashed.

But there was no more time….

'~'

**Part 2**

'~'

Time

'~'

_Time…. Is flexible. At least the perceptions of it may be. Although Time's Arrow, the perception of the passage through time is not reversible for an individual observer, their memory of their observations may be altered. The observer may, for instance, travel through a wormhole and re-enter the timeline at a previous point. If their memory is altered so that their intervening experiences are erased, then, to all intents, from their perspective, Time may be seen as reversible._

_From every point of entry - a wormhole branches into multiple paths. The subdivision continues until at length you are deposited back into space/time. The journey can be random, or with purpose._

_Destination is the key._

'~'

John sat in an isolation tank, alone with his memories, alone with an imagination which would not leave his worst fears unexplored. He wondered how long he had been here, how long they had had to subject Aeryn to indignities best not thought about, but they hadn't even left him with a way of measuring the passage of time, so he could only guess.

Since they had dragged him away from graveyard, cuffed and guarded by half a dozen silent men, anonymous in their suits of SWAT armour, and tossed him in the back of a blacked-out van, no one had told him anything about what was going on or what they were doing with Aeryn. More accurately, no one had told him anything. He hadn't seen another human face nor heard anyone's voice.

His demands for information both in the van and since being hustled, blindfolded, into the holding tank, had gone unheeded. Indeed, as he could not see out of the isolation tank, it was possible that they now went unheard as well.

Time crept by interminably. It was almost as though the powers that held him were unsure what to do next, were debating his fate.

Perhaps they were debating Aeryn's fate?

An involuntary shiver shook him at the thought. But then, if they were, perhaps there was still time?

'~'

_John Crichton was uncontrolled. Intervention was necessary. If they had continued in their actions the consequences would have been, at best, disastrous. Uncontrolled and unpredictable._ _Dangerous. _

_We could not allow exposure on his home planet at this time._

_We are in agreement regarding the necessity to intervene. Some of us are of the opinion that the experiment should not have been allowed to continue for so long._

_We thought that it was safe to let them go, that they would disappear and not risk interacting with anyone. That they would not expose us._

_No matter. The intervention was timely. Only a few alterations will be required. We do not anticipate any long term complications. _

_We gained valuable data. Important insights into whether we can expect the subjects to fulfil our needs._

_To prevent the most aggressive species of his realm from acquiring wormhole knowledge._

_We remain unconvinced that either of these subjects will serve the greater agenda._

_We disagree. We believe the male will do so. For her. And she would do so for him, too in time. _

_She is a Peacekeeper. And she is expended._

_Both of those things can be addressed. _

_We should implant the skills and knowledge._

_We cannot allow them to access it directly. It will need to be well hidden._

_Naturally._

_You propose to grant the knowledge to both of them? Is that not too risky?_

_Perhaps. Perhaps just the human, then?_

_Regardless, we cannot proceed from this point, or even close to this point. Too much has happened._

_Agreed. We should redact their memories and then insert them into the simulation shortly after their escape._

_In the Safe House._

_Agreed. The Safe House. _

_Insert them into the simulation. _

'~'

Aeryn awoke with a start, immediately alert. Like the Peacekeeper commando on the run that she was.

It was less than a day since her transport pod, containing herself, Rygel and D'Argo, had been sucked down the wormhole, following John down to his planet. Instead of the welcome John had promised that they would find on Earth, they had instead found themselves prisoners. Then, in short order, some of them had found themselves to be casualties. Then she had escaped. With John.

She shuddered at the memories, so clear, so raw. Rygel was dead. D'Argo probably, too, by now.

But John had helped her to escape from the humans' base. He had shown by his actions that he was with her, not with them. He had brought her to the safe house, through the rain. The wondrous rain. Then had come the beer, and their desperate coupling, born of lust and a shared need to affirm that they were both still alive.

Today, however, was a new day. The first day of the rest of their lives. The safe house would not be safe for long. They needed to plan their escape from this place, needed to find somewhere where it would be less likely that they would be discovered, captured and, she had no doubt, killed.

Leaving John to snore on for a few more microts, she slipped from the bed and began searching their rooms for things which might be of use to them in their escape.

'~'

_The Ancient who had taken the form of Jack observed the couple as they talked, dressed and ate. It had been a most intriguing experiment: A Peacekeeper and an alien of a previously almost unknown species. The Ancient was familiar with Peacekeepers attitudes and behaviour and so he had not expected things to develop between the two subjects as they had done. However, he was not disappointed – he had learnt a lot from what had happened. The Peacekeeper had behaved most unexpectedly, showing traits which had showed that perhaps she could be redeemed, after all. Perhaps, as others in the Hive had suggested, she might even be useful to their greater purpose at some time? As for the other, the human, it was clear that, although this particular specimen showed great promise, his species as a group was not ready, would not greet the Ancients._

_The Hive had learnt all that they needed to know from the experiment. But it had gone on for too long, and the unexpected outcome had been dangerous for both of the subjects and to the Ancient's own agenda. The Ancients had only just managed to intervene in time to save them. There still might be something more to learn from the pair. They would merit a further contact at some future time. _

_For now, they needed to terminate the simulation, but to do it in a credible way, a way that would ensure that the human and the Peacekeeper did not hold any further suspicions afterwards. So that they would not realise how utterly they had been misled and manipulated._

_After the human and the Peacekeeper left the Safe House they would begin walking across the square, past a news stand. The Hive would alter the trajectory of the female runner, make her more obviously an object of suspicion to the human, draw his attention to the news stand, to the evidence that they would place there that would cause his suspicions to rise, hopefully to reach a critical level._

'~'

"I KNOW EVERYONE! GET AWAY FROM ME AERYN! GET AWAY! BACK OFF! Every place I've been, I've been there before. Every place. Frank Kokonis! I dated your sister!"

"So much for 'I'm with you, Aeryn'," she thought as she watched the ranting human rush off, towards the edge of the square. He had pulled a gun on her. Waved it in her face, then abandoned her. Anger struggled with disbelief and loss to emerge as the dominant emotion to boil to the surface.

She felt betrayed.

She had started to believe in some of the constant dren that the frelling human spouted about friendship and trust and her being important to him. She had opened up to him so recently when they had been trapped in the flax and shared her deepest fear, that she would be left alone. She had thought that she could trust him. Frell, the previous night she had even recreated with him, the first time she had been with a male since Velorek.

She had thought they had a chance of being More.

"After all that, the frelling human has abandoned me!"

She had been lied to. Everybody lied to her, though. She had been a fool to think Crichton might be any different.

And yet something didn't seem quite right. It was almost as though there was another memory, buried deep inside her mind which she could not quite recall. Her thoughts, her memories about something important, something important concerning her and John seemed to be hidden, lost. Like a raindrop, made invisible by a downpour.

She wanted something so much it hurt. And yet she could not grasp what that something was.

She knew that John was somehow at the heart of that something. But, should they survive, how could she ever trust him with her life again?

After a microt a single tear formed at the corner of her eye and slowly trickled down her cheek. Then it fell away and was lost.

The end

Post-script by author in anticipation of the perhaps inevitable questions or discussions about whether they were ever on Earth in this version, and if so, when? You, the reader, can choose. This was the ending I had in mind from the very start with this series of fics, and I deliberately tried not to paint myself into a corner on these question. That proved to be harder and harder to do as the fics went on and I probably failed a few times. That said, I don't get paid for this and my beta had no idea where I was going until she read this fic, so... Tough noogies ;-)

It's whatever you want. If you still don't like it, perhaps the alternative ending will work better for you?


End file.
